


Already in Hell

by LoneWanderess



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Betrayal, Bucking traditions, Conspiracy, Deceit, Disability, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Fuck the establishment, Glowing Sea, I'm A Smartass Get Over It, Love Triangles, Non-Canonical Character Death, Protecting what's important, Romance, Self-Hatred, The Institute - Freeform, keeping secrets, not really explicit - Freeform, rated mature just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 47,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6086293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoneWanderess/pseuds/LoneWanderess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nora finds herself torn between two men. One she has genuine feelings for, the other an unmistakable attraction. Choosing one means betraying the other - and she can't hope to get out of this unscathed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Can't Be Serious

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. Please be gentle, or buy me dinner first. I'll update with more chapters when I can. This will not end up a threesome. Sorry folks.

Nora sat with her head in her hands on the cold vault floor. She rocked back and forth in a vigorous motion as she wept; silent sobs that wracked her body in a grief that only a widow can know. Every time she calmed her cries enough to look back at Nate's hunched form, her eyes would well up again until they overflowed, and she was unable to see him through her tears. It had been a year since she had last been here to see him, and somehow it seemed like yesterday she last bickered with the man.

It was true that her marriage had crumbled before it began. A drunken prom night had led to an unwanted pregnancy, which in turn led to a Vegas wedding that her parents nearly disowned her for. The boy she had loved in highschool turned into a man she despised when her son was born not long after. He worked long hours after having joined the military to support them. While she admired his devotion to his family, she hated the man it made him: angry, volatile, and distant. It wasn't long before she discovered Nate's affair- with a pinup girl for the war propaganda that she so hated. Nora had been ready to leave him when her brother - the only supportive person in her life - had suggested they try marriage counseling.

Things had been improving between them, going from hostile to amicable, when the war started. The stress of being a potential single mother at any given moment weighed heavily on Nora. Her paranoia led to some nasty comments to be flung at him mere moments before they fled in a panic to the vault where she now sat, alone. Although she stopped loving him months before his death, she never wanted this for him. Shaun deserved a father, and regardless of Nate's failings, he was a good man.

She had been unable to bring herself to bury him, despite Danse's insistence that she would find closure in the act. She knew that she needed the strength she got from his cold figure to find her son in the harsh environment that was her new home. Once she found Shaun she would put Nate to rest, and hopefully the memory of the horrible way in which he died. Until then, she would make this his memorial, the only place she could be in compete silence without the demands of the Brotherhood or the Minutemen, a place where she could make a heartfelt promise that no one else could hear.

"I swear to you, I will find our son, and I will find those responsible for this. I will make them pay, Nate, I will make them wish they were never born." Her voice was barely a whisper as she rose from her place beside the Cryopod, her tears now dry, but her eyes unable to look upon his preserved corpse. It wasn't until she reached the platform that her shoulders squared and her chin tilted upwards to show her stoic veneer once more.

Danse was waiting for her on the surface when she emerged, his sudden appearance causing her to jump and her fingers immediately reached for her weapon. She relaxed when he turned to face her, his eyes somehow both betraying understanding and pity. She hated that he seemed to know both nothing and everything about her; she needed privacy but also comfort, a friend to ease the pain but a superior officer to get her mind off it. She lowered her weapon and her eyes and brushed past him.

She hadn't been in the Commonwealth long before she joined the Brotherhood of Steel. Their hatred for the Institute became her own when she learned that the Institute had stolen her baby. She needed as much firepower she could get to take down an invisible, kidnapping boogeyman, and the Brotherhood had that in spades. They gave her a full set of heavy duty power armour and a purpose that she could be proud of: save her son from the psychopaths that destroyed the lives of thousands, or die trying. She rather liked living, so the first option was the only valid option in her eyes.

"Knight, are you fit for duty?" Dance asked her, his brows furrowed in concern. His eyes were soft, searching her face for what he knew she would never say: she was hanging on by a thread. Her shoulders appeared to be set too straight, her chin held a little bit too high, her frame a little too tall for someone grieving a lost spouse and a missing son. She had all the telltale signs of a woman just holding on in hopes of a better tomorrow, a tomorrow that Danse wasn’t sure would ever come.

  
“I’m fine Paladin,” she assured him. “Just haven’t been sleeping much since we took down Kellogg. Shaun was so close, and I still couldn’t reach him. Once we find Virgil and figure out a way into the Institute, I’ll sleep a whole lot better. I promise.” She offered him a weak smile, one that he knew she was putting on for his benefit, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Danse heaved a heavy sigh and looked away. There was no arguing with the woman - her determination rivaled that of the Elder himself. Perhaps that was what drew him to sponsor her into the order in the first place: a steady gun, a calm exterior, and a fiery passion for the ideals that shaped the Brotherhood. He was in deep, and he knew it, but he kept himself at a distance so that the Brotherhood was always the closest to him. He pondered her response for only the briefest of moments before offering a quick nod.

“Elder Maxson wishes to speak with you before you leave. He requests your presence on the command deck immediately upon your return to the Prydwyn. We should head there now soldier, unless you need to make any further stops before we head that way,” he stated in his usual authoritative tone that made Nora’s insides turn to jelly.

“Yes, actually,” she said. “I have to make a quick stop in Sanctuary to check on the settlers and decide who will accompany me.” She fidgeted awkwardly where she stood, refusing to meet his gaze. His eyes went wide with the realization that she was not planning to bring him along to the most dangerous area in the Commonwealth.

“You can’t be serious,” he managed to rasp out, feeling as if she had punched him in the stomach and sucked all the air out of his lungs. No one else would protect her the way he could, no one else would lay down their very life to assure she not only completed her mission, but did so safely. With the threats of numerous deathclaws, radscorpions, and enormous amounts of radiation, on top of what dangers he didn’t know about, he was sure she would either meet a grisly end, or wish she had. He stopped in his tracks while she continued walking away, back down towards Sanctuary and away from her memories of days long ago.

“Danse, I need to bring someone with me who isn’t affiliated with the Brotherhood or the Institute. I can’t afford to scare off the only lead I have - that we have. We don’t know if he’s still loyal to them, or against them. I don’t know who I’m going to bring with me, but this is one mission where you could be more of a hinderance than a help.” She glanced over her shoulder when she didn’t hear the sound of his heavy footfalls behind her. “I hope you can understand that.”

With a guilty conscience, she walked back to the busy settlement. She cared for Danse, perhaps more than she should, but this was something she couldn’t put behind her mission. Danse would understand that in time and put his pride aside. If he couldn’t, then he was never the man she thought he was.

MacReady met her outside the settlement, his usual smirk in place. They had traveled together quite a bit before Danse and the Brotherhood came along, and he never truly got over being tossed aside by a giant tin can. Seeing Nora without Danse was a rare sight, and he reveled in it.

“So pretty lady, are you ready to hit the road?” He asked, his eyes wide with mischief and glazed over from the whiskey he had for dinner. He raised an eyebrow when she didn’t reply. “Where’s the tin can?”

“Shooting daggers into my back from his eyes the last I saw. He’ll be around any minute now, I’m sure.” She waved a hand dismissively, but MacReady wouldn’t back down. He placed a playful hand on her upper back and rubbed in small circles as if to sooth the burn. Only a year younger than Nora, he often acted like a kid brother would: with jibes and banter in a playful manner, enough to both annoy and amuse her.

“Oh, a lover’s spat? That’s classic. What happened?” He hooked his arm in hers and they walked together like that while she hissed at him to lower his voice.

“Don’t go starting rumours Mac,” she warned. “Danse is my superior officer, perhaps my friend, nothing more. We just didn’t see eye to eye on a small detail. He’ll be fine.” She shrugged and MacReady watched her face for a moment.

“And…?” He drawled. “What’s the small detail?”

“My choice to not bring him with me to the Glowing Sea.” She sighed in exasperation. Mac puffed out his cheeks and let out a long breath.

“That’s not exactly a small detail, boss. The Glowing Sea isn’t a joke. The radiation alone could kill you, not to mention the giant bugs, flesh-shredding reptiles and nutjob cultists that apparently live there. I hope you let him down easy, I’m the one who will have to deal with him when you’re gone.” He stopped in his tracks and looked at her for a moment, searching her face for any signs that she knew the real reason Danse wanted to accompany her.

“What are you talking about Mac? Why would that be a problem?” MacReady put a palm to his forehead, shutting his eyes in agitation. Her eyes widened, the implications of his words setting in. “Oh.” MacReady only nodded his head as if he was explaining to a moron that the sky was blue and radiation was dangerous.

“You don’t know how bad that guy has it for you, do you?” He chuckled. “Everyone can see the way he looks at you. He stands all protective and acts the alpha-male when you’re around, glowering at anyone that comes close. You really have to start paying more attention. Now that you’re leaving without him, he’ll grumble to me the entire time about how much danger you’re in and how foolish you are to not bring someone who can adequately protect you and blah blah blah. It’s like the man thinks you’re some precious glass artifact from a time when the world wasn’t sh-crap. I hate being that man’s sounding board.” He grumbled.

“Well, that’s precisely why you’re coming with me.” Nora chimed in, using her sweetest voice and beaming at him.

“I’m sorry, what? Uh uh, no way, nope. High levels of bull is where I draw the line, boss.”

“What happened to ‘you point and I shoot’?” She asked, aiming for his pride but narrowly missing the mark.

“I would rather put up with Danse’s crap day in and day out than spend a minute out there. Sorry, I’m out.”

“What if I threaten to tell Cait about a certain merc’s mixed feelings towards everyone’s favorite Irish gal?”

“You wouldn’t,” he glared. He stared at her hard for a moment, and finally threw his hands up in the air. “You know what, go ahead. It’s not like anything will happen, aside from me losing my testicles.” Nora chuckled and shook her head. It was damn cute the way he chased after that girl, but if he was willing to have Cait find out about his feelings for her, he definitely wouldn’t budge an inch.

“Fine. Well, who do you think would be a suitable replacement?” She asked, her face returning to her usual serious expression. Mac thought for a moment, his eyes watching the sun set on the horizon. Just when she thought he wouldn’t answer her, his voice broke the silence.

“Aside from Danse, I don’t really know. You’d have to take a human I would think - that leaves myself, Preston, Piper, and Cait. Preston’s a wimp, Piper wouldn’t shut up long enough to have her observe any form of stealth, and Cait - well you’re not taking Cait. Wait, why can’t you take Curie, or Deacon? No one knows they’re synths, right?”

Nora smiled. Aside from her, no one knew that Deacon wasn’t a synth, and Curie… poor Curie was too naive to take into such a dangerous area. Deacon would turn her down, of course. He hated the Brotherhood possibly more than she hated the Institute. Strong was too bold, Codsworth not nearly bold enough. That left Hancock, who might terrify Virgil to no end, but he’d at least be immune to the radiation. She left out a frustrated huff and said goodnight to MacReady before heading to the main gate. Whatever the situation, she wasn’t making a decision tonight.

Perhaps Maxson would offer up more intel and she could figure it out tomorrow. She signaled for a vertibird and returned to the Prydwyn, not bothering to look for Danse. If he was going to sulk, he would have to do it without her. She wasn’t about to bring a whining Paladin into the Elder’s command deck so he could argue his point. Elder Maxson wouldn’t agree with her decision, but he at least wouldn’t make a big deal of it. At least she hoped he wouldn’t.

Fuck. Maxson, if there was a more intimidating presence in the Commonwealth, she had yet to meet him.


	2. Without Hesitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora gets some advice from Elder Maxson before her mission.

Arthur Maxson sat back in his chair, his head lolling to the side as he gazed into his glass, the amber liquid giving him a sense of home. He lived in this godforsaken place for just under a year now, and he missed the small comforts of the the Capital Wasteland. Here, he had no friends, only subordinates, and he had been filling the void left by loneliness with strong drink and bitterness. His mission would never end, he knew that, and he could never retire until he had an heir replace him. 

The thought sickened him. He lost Sarah Lyons to this world, he lost his father, and every day he lost another member of the crew. He didn't want to bring an heir into this world. Anything he ever loved was taken from him and it left him with a growing rage. He thought back to when his innocence had overshadowed his anger; it seemed like an eternity ago. Perhaps that was why he was so strict with the vault dweller. She had come to them willingly with a sense of wonder, and he wanted to teach her to protect herself from the dangers of the wasteland so that she would never lose that innocence. He knew it was futile, but nevertheless he wanted to try. 

Her genuine warmth and passion for life took him off guard, the way she readily accepted missions without question and insisted that she needed to help the settlers under her protection. She showed compassion where others showed apprehension, a lighthearted attitude where even he showed scorn. She came untouched by the cruelties of war, her skin still gleamed with youth, her teeth were a perfect set of pearls that seemed to warm him from the inside when she smiled. But still, he knew he couldn't shelter her from the hazards of the world outside the Prydwyn, and so he made a point to not rely on her smile to get him through the day. For that, he had whiskey. 

The sun had long since set, and he had expected Knight Nora to report in hours ago. He was growing impatient but tried not to pace. She was with Danse and would be kept safe, he knew that much. He disliked the way Danse looked at her, the way his eyes grazed over her curved body when he thought no one was watching. Buy when it came down to it, he knew Danse would protect her with his life. Maxson scowled to himself. Danse had what he would never have: her trust.

Everyone respected Maxson, admired him even. But there was no one who confided in him, and he confided in no one apart from Cade. Women threw themselves at him in an attempt to become the next Mrs. Arthur Maxson, and while it was fun at first, it became increasingly lonely. He knew he was only a tool to be used to obtain power, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had decided a few years ago to stop bedding every woman he came across, that he would find someone on his own terms or not at all. Well, that just didn't sit well with the Council. They wanted -no, demanded- that Arthur find a suitable wife and produce an heir. He was the last of his line, and as such it was a responsibility to the order as much as it was a rite of passage. 

He wished it could be his choice. Wished that he could marry whoever he chose, not who the Council decided was 'suitable.' He pictured Nora on his arm, smiling up at him with her honey colored eyes, her sandy blond hair flowing in the breeze as she balanced a babe on her hip. She would stand on her tip toes to kiss him, and laugh when the infant squirmed for him. Arthur smiled. 

A sharp knock at the door dragged him from his thoughts. He shook his head; clearly he was feeling the effects of the drink. He swallowed his glass of whiskey in one gulp and barked out an annoyed "Enter!" He held back the urge to smile when Knight Nora entered the room. She was adorned in freshly polished combat armour over her Brotherhood uniform, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail, and a nervous expression on her face. His face softened at the sight, realizing her discomfort in his presence. 

"You wanted to see me, sir?" She asked in a quiet voice. She appeared to be resisting the urge to fidget, and her eyes were downcast. 

"Yes. Knight Nora, please have a seat." He gestured to the chair opposite to the one he had occupied, and she obliged. Her knees bounced nervously as she silently looked up at him. 

"Sir?" She asked, trying to gauge the situation. He cleared his throat and promptly took his seat across from her. 

"Would you care for a drink?" He asked, more out of formality than anything. Without waiting for a reply, he filled a glass half way with his prized whiskey and slid it towards her. She shot it back quickly and he poured her another. Before either of them had uttered a word, she had pounded back five shots. She was impressed, though concerned. The woman cold hold her liquor; he wondered how often she drank to be able to drink this quickly without batting an eye. 

"I'm told you're venturing into the Glowing Sea soon. I figured we both could use one, with so much being at stake." He explained, refilling his own glass and knocking it back. 

"Has Danse said anything?" She asked, a sudden look of agitation washing over her soft features. He studied her for a moment, and her anger seemed to once again turn to apprehension under his scrutiny. 

"I haven't spoken to Danse since his last check-in, four days ago. It's there something I should know, soldier?"

She shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. She chewed on her lower lip as if she was deciding on what would be appropriate to disclose. 

"Danse and I had a small disagreement. I feel that should he accompany me to the Glowing Sea, he could potentially, and without ill intentions, affect the outcome of the mission, sir." He sat in silence for a moment, considering the implications of her words. 

"I see. Who have you decided will join you?" He asked, his voice hardening into his stern, authoritative tone. She audibly swallowed and glanced again at the floor.

"I haven't. Sir."

Maxson pinched the bridge of his nose and poured them each another drink. They each knocked it back without decorum and placed the glasses back on the steel table. 

"Knight, it is my personal experience that friendship doesn't aid you on the battlefield as much heavy duty power armour. Your friends in the settlement that you've built may be great at taking down ghouls, but I can assure you that they have not seen battle the way the Brotherhood has," he offered before he noticeably grimaced. "You would be wise to have the Paladin accompany you to such a hostile area. He is a worthy comrade, and understands his duty above all else. I would certainly feel better to know that you are safe and protected." He stressed his last point to her and her head snapped up. 

"The Paladin is a good friend, sir. And a good soldier. That was never in doubt. My concern is his dedication to the Brotherhood affords him no tact when it comes to the Institute, and I very well may need it in order to sway Virgil to help us," she said and she let out a long sigh. 

"That's the problem with friends, isn't it? Wanting to spare their feelings as soon much as possible that it can cloud over your judgement for the mission." He shot back another mouthful of whiskey and his gaze turned intense. "Tell me, Knight, if a friend came to you and asked for honest advice, would you offer it?"

"Without hesitation, sir." 

"Then my advice to you as both your Elder and friend is to bring Danse with you. If he may pose a risk to the situation, have him shut his damn mouth."

"You consider me a friend, sir?" She asked. 

"Without hesitation, Knight." She wasn't sure, but she thought she say the corner of his mouth lift into a smirk before it disappeared just as fast. "There aren't many I trust, even in the Brotherhood, so I hope that means something to you." 

She smiled and nodded slowly, gulping the whiskey that had somehow found its way into her glass without her noticing. She stood to leave, but before she could thank him for the drinks, she was falling and his arms were wrapping around her midsection. 

"I trust you too," she whispered when her senses returned to her. His arms steadied her as her head stopped spinning, and she was grateful even through her embarrassment. 

His eyes locked onto hers as he stood her up properly. Something in his chest burst then, shooting a glowing warmth down his core and into his groin. Before he could stop himself or consider his actions, his lips were on hers and his hands cupped her surprised face. He kissed her with a tenderness he didn't know he had, and she kissed him back as though she had been starved for affection her entire life. He broke the kiss quickly, and offered to walk her to her bunk. She declined and bid him goodnight, her hand cupping his face in sweet affection.

The door closed behind her and Arthur rested his forehead against the cold steel door.

"Goodnight," he whispered back as the sound of her footsteps faded into the hum of the Prydwyn's engines.


	3. Suitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxson gives Nora something to think of during her mission.

Nora woke with a drummer playing a beat inside her skull, but with a smile on her face nonetheless. Her quiet attraction to Maxson had felt like a schoolgirl crush for the last year. She usually felt nervous around him; his demeanor demanded an almost reverent respect. She had never known him to have a soft side, she had never seen his lips twitch into a smile or his eyes fill with longing. There was something in his steel-blue eyes that conveyed a loneliness that she found in herself, a need for kinship and understanding in a world that resisted those ideals to its very core. The thought of his lips on hers sent a flutter to her chest as she made her cot, and she wondered if things would have been different if she hadn't accepted the whiskey.

Or if he had been sober.

Her heart dropped at the thought, and with a final snap of the sheets she was bounding to the lavatory to clean herself up before her departure. She brushed her teeth and considered his eyes, heavy with lust and yet a sincerity she hasn't seen in him before. She thought of his hands on her face, calloused but gentle. She watched her face tinge with pink as she though of his soft and pillowy lips on hers. She felt the heat move to her lower belly and she nearly moaned with want. She combed her hair and promised herself she would speak to him on her return to find out what it all meant.

Haylen was waiting for her when she emerged, fresh for the day. She was a few years older than Nora, but her face reminded her of a highschool student, always in good spirits. Nora wondered how the woman was able to be so cheerful at five in the morning, but decided not to comment on it. Haylen was perhaps the closest to a friend she had on the Prydwyn aside from Danse, and her friendly demeanor often reminded Nora of a sparrow after the rain. She hooked her arm in Nora's, and leaned in to whisper.

"A little birdie said they saw you leaving Elder Maxson's quarters late last night, and it looked as though you two had a good time," she said with a chuckle. Nora looked at her and wondered if she should be forthright, but decided against it.

"We were discussing my mission to the Glowing Sea. I needed advice, so we had a drink and went over a few things," she explained. It wasn't exactly a lie, more of an omission.

"Alright, just be careful. Those few things could break Danse's heart. He's a good guy and deserves the truth." They stopped in front of the command deck, and Haylen lowered her voice. "Maxson is a wonderful Elder, but I'm worried he'll break your heart too. You could have a future with Danse if you wanted one, you know." Haylen's eyes were full of sadness for her two friends.

"Haylen, the only future I see is one with my son. There's nothing going on between Maxson and I, nor Danse and I. Period." Nora gritted her teeth and projected her irritation towards Haylen, who offered an apologetic shrug.

"Elder Maxson wants to brief you before your departure, " she said, wringing her hands behind her back. Nora's heart fluttered at the news and offered a quick nod in thanks. Haylen stiffly walked away and Nora glanced at Elder Maxson.

His back was to her, as it often was, as he stared out I've the Commonwealth. The warmth in her spread as she took in his commanding form. His back was straight in his usual proud posture, his jacket accentuating his already muscular frame. She approached him quietly and stopped several feet behind, as was customary, but he never turned to face her.

"Have you changed your mind, Knight?" He asked in his usual authoritative tone. He was speaking as an Elder of the Brotherhood now, long gone was the softness of Arthur Maxson the man.

"Sir?" She was unsure what he was referring to. Her head pounded and she was slow to grasp ideas. All she could think of was his lips, his body against hers, and his hands against her jaw.

"Paladin Danse is awaiting departure on the flight deck. I don't want to issue a command here soldier, but I will if necessary." His tone was almost cold, hostile.

"That will be unnecessary, sir. Paladin Danse may accompany me as you suggested."

"Good. He has been instructed that you are to take lead on this only once you find Virgil. The rest of the time, you are to follow his every order. Is that understood, Knight?" He still had yet to face her, and her chin trembled at the thought that he may be angry with her.

"Yes, sir." She answered stiffly, trying to keep the shaking in her voice from reaching his ears. She realized it was in vain when his shoulders stiffened. She dared to step closer, wanting to reach out for him but knowing it would be inappropriate. He was silent for a long while. Nora was beginning to wonder if she had been dismissed and was about to salute when he leaned forward and put his forearm on the glass and rested his head upon it. He seemed to be searching for words, and Nora replayed Haylen's advice in her mind.

_I'm worried he'll break your heart too._

Maxson took a deep breath and seemed to melt into the glass. 

"I apologize for my regretful and inappropriate actions last night, Knight. It is no excuse to say that I had too much to drink, and I am deeply sorry for any pressure I placed on you. My behavior was unbecoming of an Elder." He fell silent again and did not turn to face her.  Her heart melted for him, that his sense of honor could be so much that a drunken kiss would make him feel guilty. She stepped towards him and lightly placed her hand on his shoulder. 

"Your actions were reciprocated, Elder. I found them far from inappropriate," she offered warmly, trying to sooth his pride.

"Reciprocated or not, Knight, that will never occur again. You may not find it inappropriate, but therein lies the problem." His head snapped to look at her over his shoulder, and she removed her hand from him and took a step back at the warning in his glare. "I am Elder Arthur Maxson, the last of my line, and I should not be consorting with my subordinates when I am actively looking for a suitable woman to bear my children. You are a suitable Knight, however anything more is impossible in the eyes of the Brotherhood. I am ashamed of my actions, and you should be also."

The tears rolled down her face, the sting of his words sinking in. 

_I am unsuitable. I am not good enough. I am a fool._

Her stoic veneer returned, a mask that held her anger at bay. Inwardly, she fumed. She trusted this man, opened up to him, and like everything else in the Commonwealth, he was not what he seemed. Her spine straightened and her gaze stared at his back, but her eyes saw nothing at all.

"Will that be all, sir?" She asked in the most professional tone she could muster. 

 _"_ Yes, soldier. Ad victorium, dismissed. "

His own tears had not dried when she left, the great Arthur Maxson feeling empty and defeated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter, but soon we'll get into Danse/Nora, I promise.


	4. Vigilance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur thinks on his latest outburst while Nora and Danse take off from the Prydwyn.

Arthur watched her through the glass of the command deck as she conversed with Danse before he briefly gave her a quick nod. He could see the tension between the two of them, and he felt his own anger boil up as Nora gave Danse a beaming smile and boarded the vertibird without looking up towards him.

He told himself he wasn't jealous, that he was unimpressed by the lack of professionalism between the two, but he knew he was only lying to himself. He hated himself for making advances towards her-- advances that he knew could lead nowhere, that _should_ lead nowhere. He hated the way her chin trembled when he callously refused to admit he cared for her. Most of all, he hated how the feeling of her lips was a phantom against his own. 

The vertibird whirred to life as it detached from the Prydwyn. Danse saw him in the window of the flight deck and offered the Brotherhood salute, while Nora pointedly feigned ignorance to his presence. He let out a heavy sigh.

_It's better this way._

Maxson had known for months that he was far more attracted to the girl than he allowed himself to believe. The way her soft curves filled out her uniform, the delightful sound of her laugh, her compassion to her fellow man. He had denied it to himself all this time, and spent many nights trying not to repeat their conversations in his head while drowning in whiskey, searching for hidden meanings or outright flirtations. She was a feeling he could not shake, but he knew they couldn't be together. Not after the message he received from the Council early this morning.

 

_Elder Maxson, it had come to our attention that you have, without discretion, engaged in consorting with a crew member far below your station. It is our responsibility to remind you that you are the last of the Maxson bloodline, and it is your responsibility to choose a wife of that meets the criteria the Council has laid out. The eligible female must have a proven history within the Brotherhood, from a line stretching back to the founding of our order. This guarantees the longevity of our order, and the tenets it holds dear. We cannot stress enough the implications of unwanted rumors suggesting any relations with non-approved persons. We are confident you will concur with our strong recommendation to abstain from further interaction with said female. Ad victorium, Elder._

 

Maxson ran his hand through his hair, trying to compose his thoughts. He was wanted on the flight deck, he knew, to issue orders to the remaining flight crew. He wished for once he could be Arthur, just Arthur. Not an Elder who was constantly issuing orders and putting the order in front of his own interests. He wanted to return to his quarters and drink himself to sleep. It was still morning; drinking this early would cause Cade to pry. And he hated prying.

He slowly descended to the flight deck, his earlier words replaying in his head. He tried to shake the thoughts away, but instead only aggravated his already worsening hangover. The whirring of the vertibird blades was louder here, and he squinted against the sunlight now pouring across the deck. Cade strode over to stand at his side, an eyebrow arched in a manner that was already annoying Maxson.

"Are you feeling quite well, sir?" Cade asked with a smirk. Maxson growled under his breath and ignored him while the flight team assembled around him. He waited until they were all present, standing at his full height as if daring anyone else to say a word.

"Today two of my best have ventured into one of the most hostile environments we have ever come across. The are risking their very lives to bring the Brotherhood that which we have never before come across: the knowledge of just how we will locate and breach the Institute. We have all seen our share of terrors in the Capital Wasteland, however I assure you that what they are undertaking is that much more devastating. I charge you all with remaining vigilant until their return; you will not only stay attentive to your radios but also your scanners to search for the EM fields." He gestured to the map that was set up in the center of the deck. 

"I want birds stationed here, here, here, and here. You may be stationary for upwards of two weeks, so double check your supplies to ensure you have an adequate amount of food and water. I also want you to each carry spare stimpacks, and RadAway for when the Paladin and Knight return from their mission. They may be injured or sick with radiation poisoning, so take care to use your medical training. The remainder of you will patrol the borders to the Glowing Sea in shifts, only returning to resupply and refuel. We will not lose any Brothers or Sisters because we are unprepared. Treat this mission as if the livelihood of the Brotherhood depends on it, because it very well might. Ad victorium. Dismissed."

Arthur head a few snickers erupt through the crowd, but decided to ignore them. He was approaching this mission with no greater zeal than he would any other, offering no more care than he would to any other soldier. He knew the rumors had already started, but at this point it didn't matter. There was only the mission now, nothing else mattered.

He scowled and focused on this thought before another invaded his mind, its voice small but insistent.

_Danse will protect her. If anything happens to her, I will kill him myself._


	5. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse and Nora argue as they search for shelter in the Glowing Sea.

Danse watched Nora from his seat on the vertibird. Her face was set in a deep frown and she purposely avoided his gaze. The entire hour that the vertibird made its way to the borders of the Glowing Sea was filled with silence as Danse fidgeted with his safety belt, checked and rechecked his rifle, and counted their rations of food and water. Anything to appear busy so that he wouldn't be forced to make small talk. The pilot left them on the border of the safe zone, far from where Danse had hoped. The journey ahead would take at least a week each way by foot over rocky terrain to reach Virgil's general area, never mind on pin pointing his location. Danse let out a defeated sigh as the vertibird sat down.

"There will be teams patrolling this area at regular intervals beginning at 1800 hours three days from now until we have you both safely on your way back to the Prydwyn. If you need to abort the mission before this time, you are to radio in for evac. The closest we can get is along the border to the wastes, and it had been marked on your pip boy map. You must make it to this area to be evacuated since we'll be unable to enter." The pilot explained as he passed the radio to Nora. "I've also taken the liberty to procure you a bottle of Elder Maxson's finest bourbon. It may serve you as well as the ammo." He handed Danse the bottle with a wink and readied for takeoff with an enthusiastic 'Ad Victorium.' Danse and Nora watched as the vertibird pulled away, its whirring engines fading and leaving them in silence.

Danse watched her try to adjust the clasps on her power armour helmet, struggling to make the large fingers find and manipulate the tiny mechanism. He let out a soft sigh when it appeared she wouldn't get it to work, and stepped closer to help. She shrugged him off and continued to try to get it herself, but Danse knew she needed help and they didn't have time for her stubbornness.

"Here, let me," he offered, his words sounding more like a demand than a request. Nora finally huffed and gave in, lowering her arms to her sides. Danse had the clasps tightened in less than half the time it took Nora to accept his help. Her body language screamed anger, but her eyes had appeared hollow on the flight in. She didn't seem angry in Sanctuary, in fact he was the one that had been angry. Her smile before the flight had seemed genuine, warm even, but now she was distant and cold. She was definitely not herself.

"Knight, I must ask: are you angry with me? We really need to make sure any negative emotions are buried right here before we proceed," he said. His words were soft but he was serious about their meaning: any distraction could prove fatal.

"Hmm? Oh, no. I'm sorry Danse. I'm not angry with you. I'm just... I have a lot on my mind right now. But you're right, I need to bury it here before it gets us both killed." She answered, her voice trailing off as she searched a memory far away.

"Well, just know that if you ever need to talk, I'll listen." He placed a supportive steel hand on her likewise armoured shoulder and took point ahead of her. Nora didn't respond to his suggestion, instead offering a single nod and following behind as he led the way, carefully checking her blind spots for enemies that Danse may have missed. 

The landscape was eerily quiet, not even the sound of the drifting sand could be heard.  Everything was a monochrome of the same sickly green, the bombs having destroyed every blade of grass, telephone pole and structure that the ground zero had once laid claim to. The air was arid, and the ground cracked where radioactive rivers didn't flow. Even the tree stumps were dried out husks of their former selves- they resembled rooted driftwood rather than the remains of once vibrant greenery.

"I don't like this," Danse mumbled, not realizing he spoke aloud. He nudged the carcass of a long dead radstag and scowled. The animal looked to have been shredded, though before or after death was anyone's guess. "We have approximately five hours of travel time before we reach Hopesmarch Pentacostal Church. That's assuming we find flat terrain, which I can almost guarantee we will not. Otherwise we are looking in upwards of ten hours, which will put us there at roughly 2200 hours. Let's get a move on, Knight."

The two trudged through rough terrain for several hours, coming across numerous mutated bloatflies and bloodbugs. The insects were dispatched quickly and easily. It wasn't until about the forth hour of climbing up and down rocky terrain that they ran into a radscorpion. Although they eliminated the creature, Nora suffered a nasty sting on her shoulder which slowed them down a considerable amount. Through gritted teeth she fought the pain, not wanting to waste a stimpack on a superficial wound. When Danse voiced his concern, Nora snapped.

"Dammit Danse, I'm not a fragile little girl! I can handle it, so why do you always insist on pestering me? Lay off!" She shouted, fuming at his insistent urging. She knew he cared for her, but his overprotective treatment was taxing.

"Lower your voice, Knight! You have no idea what lurks out here and you could drawing attention to us!" He hissed.

"Why? Are you worried I won't be able to take care of myself then, either?" She demanded, fixing him with a glare.

"You're being reckless. This endangers us both!"

"And you're being overbearing and an ass!"

Danse growled in frustration. He knew she could be strong willed, but she was choosing the most inopportune time to display her independence. Danse lowered his voice and took a breath, calming himself in the process. 

"Nora, you're not yourself today, you've admitted it. As your commanding officer, it's my duty to protect you, or Elder Maxson-"

"Elder Maxson will what? Demote you, tell you that you're not good enough, throw you overboard?" She was nearly in tears now. Her outburst was not lost on the Paladin.

"Write me up for incompetence." He replied softly. Her shoulders slumped and she said nothing. Danse gestured to the unused stimpack in his hand that had nearly shattered in his clenched fist. She simply nodded and turned her face away from him. He thought he heard her whimper when the injection started to work, and he was satisfied her pain was under control.

The further they went into the Glowing Sea, the more abominations they came across. Fatigue soon set in, the constant firefights and running wearing on their bodies. The power armour may have been extra protection, but after a while, even the pneumatic assistance wasn't enough to completely take the weight off their limbs. By the time they made it to the half buried church, it was well past dark, and they were exhausted.

Nora breathed a sigh of relief at the sight, but was soon disappointed to see that the entrance had long ago been buried. There was nowhere else around for miles that was safe enough to make camp for the night, and the only way in appeared to be through the steeple. The thought of climbing fifty feet up to drop down inside made her want to sob with fatigue, but she remained quiet and followed Danse as he gestured to the their new trial.

"We don't know what we'll find in there, Knight. I'll go in first. You-"

"What, wait here like a child until you give me the all-clear?" She snapped.

"No," he replied, a chill dancing at the edge of his voice. "You watch my six."

Nora nodded and they heaved themselves up onto the steep roof, slipping over loose shingles and debris. Finally, they made it to the entry point. Danse nodded to her and jumped down into the darkened abyss. Nora flipped her headlight on, waited to the count of five and followed. She reached the bottom just as Danse opened fire. 

They had just fallen into a den of ferals, and damn if there wasn't a shit ton of them.

 


	6. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Danse and Nora are away, Maxson stresses over making a life-altering decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter to get some feels out there for Maxson. Get it while it's hot- -the next few will be filled with angst. 
> 
> Not even proofread in the least. Don't judge me.

_Twelve_.

That was the magic number that the Council had decided on.

Twelve days to meet twelve women. Twelve days to decide his future. Twelve days to pick one of the eligible bachelorettes that the Council had deemed suitable. Twelve days, and Nora would be no more than a distant memory of a fleeting fantasy. Perhaps he would meet one as beautiful, or as passionate, or at least as interesting. Out of twelve, there had to be one that could make him forget about the dusty-blond vault-dweller that invaded his thoughts and dreams.

Maxson decided to spend his last free days doing what most comforted him: drinking until he passed out. He opted for solitude- no prying eyes or badgering questions. He was sick of thinking, sick of dreaming, sick of _feeling._ He was tired of picturing Danse comforting Nora after his outburst. Visions of the man's large hands roaming her soft skin make him quake with rage. Tired of seeing her eyes after he lashed out at her- filled with unscheduled tears, confusion, and heartbreak. He knew his anger was mainly towards himself for having put himself in this situation. If Danse made advances on Nora, so be it. Maxson would be married on their return and he could get on with his life, maybe transfer her to the Capital. He would never have to see her again.

A swift knock at the door shook him from his thoughts. Maxson threw an arm over his eyes and tried to ignore the sound. When it was clear the disruption would not relent, he called for them to enter.

"Elder Maxson, sir, I have been tasked to check on you. Since the team was dispatched to the Glowing Sea, you've not left your quarters. The crew is beginning to think you are dead." Cade looked around casually, noticing the two empty bottles of whiskey. "But it appears you are still working on it."

"I'm not in the mood for your sarcasm today, Cade."

"Very well, sir. Permission to speak candidly?"

"Denied," Maxson grumbled, one hand nursing his throbbing headache, the other arm still indisposed to shield his eyes from the aggravating fluorescent light thato never dimmed.

"Well, you're too drunk to remember this conversation in the morning, so I will anyway. You're acting like a sulking child who wasn't invited to a birthday party. I'm your doctor and your friend, and I am concerned. This is not like you. You will either speak to me regarding your mental state, cease this obnoxious behavior, or I will be forced to inform the Council. I really hate dealing with them, so your cooperation would be appreciated. Sir."

Maxson sat up and eyed Cade, weighing his threat and the possible outcomes. Maybe Cade would know the answer, maybe he would confirm that at least one woman on that list would take his mind off everything.

"I am afraid, Cade. For the first time in my life, I am faced with an impossible choice. It's true, I did consort with a crew member. I _cared_ for her. And I'm certain she cared for me. But the Council didn't approve and I called the whole thing off. I'm going to pick someone on their damned list, but the fact that none of them might be compatible with me is horrifying. I don't want to have a marriage like my parents did. I'm so Fucking angry, and I don't know why." Maxson watched Cade while he seemed to process the information. A long while passed before a sound could be heard.

"There is no chance that she could be carrying your child?" Arthur scowled at the idea, and Cade threw his hands out in surrender. "If there is no chance, then you do have choice, Elder. You are not forced, like many wastelanders, into a loveless marriage due to a child. You may care for her now, and she you, but there is a chance she may not have the Brotherhood ingrained in her the way those selected do. If she were to bring ruin on the order, you will be forced to make an even more impossible choice. Would you execute her, or let a traitor go free? Love is not always a boon, it can also be a prison. Love can prevent you from making critical decisions that affect us all. And worse, if you decide years down the road that you are not in love, you are left with a damaged reputation."

"Cade. How do I decide on one of the twelve after only spending a few hours with each? How is that realistically possible?" He huffed. Cade's look turned to one of pity, and Maxson squirmed.

"You do love her, don't you? Oh, my poor boy."

"How the hell do you figure? Sure, I'm fond of her, but how do you get love from that?" He demanded. Cade smirked and rone from his chair.

"Because sir," he explained. "If you weren't, the answer to that question would be simple: pragmatism."


	7. Head Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a killing an entire den of feral ghouls, Danse and Nora settle in for the night, safe from the dangers of the Glowing Sea.

"Well, that was exhilarating," Nora mused after she had put the last ghoul down. It had been a bloodbath, over two dozen ghouls against the two of them, but power armour and a quick trigger finger tipped the scale in their favor. Nora nudged one with her foot, catching sight of a gleaming gold pocket watch. It was rarer than the others she had found, older and tarnished. She wound the pin and discovered it was a wind up, like the one her grandfather had once worn. The thought sent a warmth into her chest and she smiled and turned around to show Danse her newest treasure. The sight of him made her stomach drop.

He was hunched on one knee, his helmet had been knocked off somehow. His breaths were coming hard, and blood was flowing from a deep gash on his brow. He was swaying slightly, trying to keep what was left of his balance. Nora rushed to steady him. Normally she viewed him as next to invincible; his powerful frame and quick thinking had saved her ass more times than she could count. She had never seen him use so much as a stimpack in the past year. The man was a beast.

Nora helped him into a sitting position, and began to rummage through her pack for antiseptic and gauze. Danse watched her with a dazed expression, his brows furrowed in confusion. If she wasn't so frantic, she might be amused. Those brows could convey his every emotion, at least to her. She checked his pupils and found they were adjusting abnormally. She snapped her fingers to get his attention, and could see he was having trouble focusing on her. He didn't hiss when she applied the antiseptic with gentle fingers, or when she pressed gauze to the wound. She trapped the gauze as best she could and sighed. 

"You have a concussion, Paladin. I'm afraid using a stimpack wouldn't do much; it would close the wound at best, but they're ineffective for brain injuries. Let's get you out of that power armour so you can get some rest to recover. There's no radiation down here, and we'll be safe. I'll keep an eye on you." She left him no room for argument, but she had a feeling that he didn't hear her anyway. She brought him to his feet and opened up the steel cocoon, grateful that they both had a set that was durable, otherwise this situation could have gotten very ugly, very fast. She supported his weight and he sat back down.  He looked at her with a dreamy gaze whole she excited her own power armour. Cool, damp air quickly relieved her sticky skin, and she shivered. 

"Nora?" She nodded and smiled gently. She rolled out his sleeping bag and gestured to it, and he clumsily stumbled in while she searched for tinder for a fire. 

The smell of must and rotted wood permeated the air, dust catching the narrow rays of moonlight as it drifted in through the high steeple. It reminded Nora of snow before the war, how it would glimmer in the evening city lights, though the smell was clean, and the silence then was a comfort. She remembered playing in the snow with her sister, her cheeks rosy and laughter contagious. It was the last time Nora heard that laugh; that was the day Nora had wanted to go ice skating. Noel was afraid to go on the ice, but Nora called her a baby and dragged her out and promised her a hot chocolate afterwards. They had been having a great time, racing each other across the pond. Nora was so focused on beating her sister that she didn't notice her fall through the ice until she heard her screams. She had managed to pull Noel to safety, but a week later Noel succumbed to pneumonia. Her mother blamed her for her sister's death and sent her to live with her father. She never saw her mother again after Noel's funeral. On the tenth anniversary of Noel's death, her mother overdosed on painkillers and passed away.

Danse moaned and it pulled Nora out of her reverie. 

"My head...hurts," he managed. Nora glanced at him and realized his shirt was soaked in sweat. She searched in his pack for a clean one and tossed it to him. It took him a moment to process her gesture, but he slowly began to change his top. He got stuck half way through, the wet fabric clinging to his skin and bunching up in all the worst places. Nora chuckled softly and helped him in his struggle to free himself. 

She was taken by what she saw before her. Firm pectorals over a set of washboard abs, powerful shoulders, and a dusting of hair on his broad chest. His large biceps flexed as he unfolded the clean shirt and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion. He struggled with the nakedness he felt without his armour, its protective comfort was normally a way to shield himself from his insecurities. Here, without it, dazed and confused whilst in Nora's presence, he felt exposed. _Weak_. She saw his discomfort and looked away to pull out their daily rations, handing him crispy squirrel bits, mutfruit, cold iguana soup and a can of Cram. She didn't tell him that she gave him half of her share, and in his hazy confusion, he didn't notice. He would need the extra nutrition for his recovery.

They gazed into the fire a long while afterwards in silence. Nora laid her sleeping bag next to his and stretched out inside it. She could feel his eyes on her, so she turned to face him. She couldn't read his expression for once, perhaps because his eyes were glazed and he still didn't seem to know where they were.

"Danse?"

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" He asked dreamily. Nora's cheeks went a shade of crimson he'd never seen before. "No, I mean- just everything. You're gorgeous, but you're smart, and witty. You always make the funniest jokes, even if I don't laugh. You care about people, and they care about you. _I_ care about you, you know." He stopped and his eyes fluttered closed. He yawned deeply, and Nora kissed him on the cheek as he drifted off.

"I know," she whispered. She laid down on his arm, and put the gold pocket watch in his hand. Nora watched him as he slept peacefully, wondering what he would dream about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit on brain injury:  
> \- requires more calories to heal  
> \- can cause clumsiness, confusion, slurring, uncoordination  
> \- can cause hallucinations, pupils to dilate separately   
> \- can cause the victim to say and do completely irrational things, sometimes funny, sometimes scary  
> \- can cause memory lapses


	8. The Gold Pocketwatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth between Nora and Danse comes to partial light. Partial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm writing this mainly on my tablet, using the swype keyboard. Samsung and I have a disagreement over what needs to be autocorrected. If a word is used incorrectly, say 'moose' instead of 'mouth', just assume I used the right word. I'm catching most of them, but until I go back for an edit, guaranteed there will be a few more! You guys are awesome!

Danse's eyes fluttered open when the first cracks of sickly dawn sunlight filtered in through the opening in the steeple. His head felt like a mirelurk was trying to claw its way out, and the heat of the wasteland morning was becoming unbearable. He tried to shift slightly, and recoiled at the sight of Nora lying on his shoulder. The sudden movement unseated her head, and it hit the wooden floorboards with a resounding  _thunk._

"Oww!" She howled, trying to cradle her head in her hands and wake up enough to figure out what had happened. "Good morning to you too, big guy." Still clutching her head, she sat up and looked at him as he shuffled away from her. When he reached an almost comical distance, he stood and awkwardly cleared his throat. 

"How did...that is...I don't remember going to sleep, I remember ghouls and then," his eyes went wide. "We didn't... get intimate... did we?" The look of shame mixed with horror on his face tugged at Nora's heartstrings. He was concerned that they had, and that he had somehow forgotten. She wondered briefly what it would be like to have his strong hands on her body, his muscled chest above hers as he made love to her. She nearly shook the thought of longing from her head, and curiosity quickly replaced it. Would Danse even want to be intimate with her? They were so different. He was the Brotherhood personified: serious, stern, dutiful, ambitious, and genuinely concerned for others. She was an outsider: lighthearted, passionate about all life, vengeful, lonely, and alone in her way of thinking. She felt a strong physical attraction to him, and had often imagined kissing his gorgeous mouth. And that was  _before_ sure saw him half naked. She felt a pang of guilt- was she thinking this way because Maxon so callously rejected her? She hated to think that she was desperate for sex, but it had been over two hundred years, and she owed Maxson _nothing_. 

"No, Paladin, we were not intimate. You hit your head, have a concussion, and I kept watch over you all night to make sure you were alive," she almost wanted to roll her eyes at him, but felt it would be cruel after his admission the previous night. "I know that we need to move on Danse, but-"

"I assure you, I am fit for travel, Knight." He entered his power armour again, grateful to feel is cold, strong embrace. It gave him confidence, a feeling of strength despite his show of weakness. 

"I'm sure you are. I, however, woke every two hours last night. I am tired, cranky, and sore. Can we please take a breather, just for today?" Her eyes begged him to listen to her, and he realized she was asking for herself as much as him. He let out a grunt and nodded. 

"You can rest for a bit, but we can't afford to lose an entire day. Go back to sleep, Knight. We will depart at 1200 hours." She nodded and rolled over. Before long, her breathing had steadied, and Danse watched the rise and fall of her back before he began cleaning his gun. He told himself he needed her at her best while they traveled, but in reality he knew he would never deny her anything she asked for. 

An hour or so passed before she stirred, moving only slightly, but Danse saw it. He knew she was dreaming, and he wanted to reach over and brush the hair from her face, but he didn't dare. He turned his attention back to his rifle, taking it apart and cleaning it before reassembling it. After it was in top condition, he began running diagnostics on his power armour, making the necessary adjustments. He was so engrossed in his task that he failed to notice her thrashing. It wasn't until he heard her moan his name that his head snapped up. He assumed she was having a nightmare at first, but before he could shake her from a fitful sleep, she did something he didn't expect: moaned in pleasure. He heard his name over and over again, almost like a mantra, but closer to poetry the way it escaped her lips.

Danse stopped his tinkering, and watched her for a long while, grinning to himself like a teenager. 

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

When Nora woke,  Danse was sitting in an old pew, his head bowed and a contemplative look on his face. He had discarded his blood soaked, Brotherhood issued hood, and his hair was a disheveled mess. The gash on his forehead looked much worse in the brightness of day, but to his credit, he had not commented on it since the previous night. Nora propped herself up on her elbows, watching him from across the ruins of the former place of worship. She reflected on her own loss of faith-- lost since the world ended. There were no horsemen, no serpents, no battle between angels and demons-- only prideful men that had boasted of a new era. Well, that much was true, but this was nothing to boat about. 

"I never took you for the religious type Paladin," she mused, her eyebrow cocked as if waiting on an explanation. Danse's head leveled to match her gaze.

"I'm not," he answered. "I was thinking." She rose from the floor and sat beside him, and he moved over to make more space for her.

"About what?" Her eyes and voice were soft, and she seemed concerned something was wrong.

Danse flipped the gold pocket watch in his palm, his brows creased in conflict. Nora rested a small hand on his knee, her hand on his shoulder. 

"It's alright Danse, you can trust me," she assured him. She lifted her hand to remove it when he refused to look at her, but he caught her wrist. His pillowed lips were on her own in a split second. She blinked in surprise, taking longer than she should have to realize what was happening.

She felt herself melting into him-- his warm hand on her jaw, his fingers in her hair. His kiss was filled with longing, a desperation gone unanswered for far too long. She kissed him back with just as much vigor; their tongues testing, teasing, tasting. He pulled her into his lap, running his hands over her small back, his urgency for her apparent beneath her. His hands squeezed at her bottom, and he arched his hips to rub himself against her. He kissed her as though she were the key to his salvation, his own personal Christ; as though her breath was enough to keep him from drowning. She relished his hands as they glided over her ivory skin, clinging to him as a shiver erupted in her spine. His lips went to her throat, his tongue exploring every inch of it he could, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin until a primal whimper tumbled from her mouth. 

"Nora, I love you."

She stopped. 

She took her warmth with her as she withdrew, sitting slowly beside him once more. He was confused at her sudden passion, but more so the sudden denial of it. She offered no explanation, but when she finally looked at her he saw it: uncertainty, fear, worry.

He smiled softly, touching two fingers under her jaw lightly, just enough to assure her that he understood. He kissed the inside of her palm, and replaced his lips with the gold watch. 

"When you're ready, I'll be right here," he promised.

And he meant every word. 


	9. Already in Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A marriage candidate helps Arthur decide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's later than usual. Had to rewrite this from memory after a mishap last night where I hit the back button without saving. Note to self: save often!  
> Again, my autocorrect is in overdrive, if anyone wants to volunteer to proofread, I'm up for that. More sexy time soon, I promise!

Maxson gazed out of the panoramic window from his usual station, his jaw clenched and his teeth gritting. His beard was beginning to grow unkempt, his posture slouched, and dark circles were forming around his eyes. It had been six days. Six days of meeting absolutely appalling women. Six days of missing Nora and drinking himself to sleep. Six days of Cade knowingly eyeing him; his usual cheery face twisted in concern for his long time friend. Each day that passed, he grew more terse with a new woman, giving her short answers and making obvious his disinterest. Each day, he grew more worried for Nora, regretting their last conversation and hoping it didn't distract her in the most dangerous environment he had ever seen. Each night, he laid in bed, awake and unsettled, thinking of all the ways Danse could be seducing her, tasting her, exploring her. He was nearly mad with loss of sleep, and he barely touched his meals. He spent the majority of his "dates" pushing food across his plate, and resembling a sulking child. He knew he was being deliberately off-putting, glaring when he should be smiling, silent when he should be conversing, and bored when he should be interested.

Today, he would be forced to meet Amelia-- some daughter of a councilman he had never met, and whose mother, from what he could remember, was an absolute witch. Amelia herself was rumoured to be meek and mild-tempered, a stark difference from her mother, and Maxson's best match -- at least according to Quinlan. He didn't think anyone would suit him better than Nora. The way her head fit on his shoulder seemed like she was meant to be there. The way he saw his own pain in her eyes was an unspoken secret. The way she would make him laugh when so few things could these days, bathed him in the ignorance of youth. But most of all, the way she kissed him, like there was no other man alive, made him feel needed. Not Elder Maxson the leader. Arthur the man, Arthur who was fallible and flawed. Despite all the ugliness he held within him, she was able to look into him, through him, and make him feel stronger and more alive than he had ever felt. And like a man who doesn't know he is starving until there is no more food, he discarded his only morsel. He felt a bit like Alice in the old stories of Wonderland; he followed her through this rabbit hole into an unknown world. Unlike Alice, he had no companions to guide him through it -- he cast her aside in favor of the easier route. Easier for the counsel, but certainly not easier for him. 

When Amelia arrived, Arthur was waiting on the flight deck to receive her. Truth be told, he had been waiting for two hours, packing a trench into the steel deck, since her flight was very late. He tried not to scowl at her thoughtlessness, his mood already darkened by his impatience. Even being as late as she was, she did not disembark the vertibird. In fact, her attending knights had to force her from the craft while she turned her nose up and made a scene. Arthur raised an eyebrow in disbelief. _This_ was the woman the Council deemed was his best match?  

When she was finally on the deck, Arthur studied her carefully. She was only a girl, probably no older then eighteen. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from sobbing. She was dressed in a satin gown, her chestnut curls pinned atop her head. Her face had been painted, but was now Stafford with tears. Her shoulders were hunched and Maxson doubted she had any expression other than one of contempt. Nevertheless, he offered his arm to her out of chivalry, which she snobbishly refused. Maxon brought her to his usual perch on the command deck, which had been cordoned off and turned into a lavish dining room dieing these last few days. He wished he could done with Nora here- to see her dressed in a tight sequin dress and heirloom jewelry while the candlelight flickered and reflected off her flamenco hair. Unfortunately he was here, and this was his reality.

Amelia sat down and Maxson pushed in her chair, which was a courtesy he leaned from his mother. He briefly wondered what she would think of this whole charade, then joined her at the table as mess workers brought out their first course: smoked gourd and tato salad. The silence was deafening, and Maxson felt his head would explode from anxiety. He thought aboutv whether an aneurysm would get him out of this mess, because at this rate it was bound to happen. He cleared his throat, but Amelia still did not look up. He softly spoke her name and she turned her eyes to him, and he saw they were filled with rage. Anger he could work with; it was adoration that was troublesome.

"Is there some reason that my fave offends you, or are you hating this Council experiment as much as I am?" He asked, his voice monotonous despite the joke found in his words. She did not smile-- not so much as a smirk.

"You do not offend me, Elder," she said, turning her eyes back to her plate. Maxson sighed and put down his fork. 

"Amelia, if I dont offend you, this process does. I assure you, I have no interest in marrying someone against their will. I don't know what you've heard about me, but I can assure you, my barbarism is directed towards the enemies of the Brotherhood. Will you at least concede to an amicable meal, as two professional soldiers?" She seemed to mull over his words for a moment and put her fork down. 

"Alright. I have less than zero interest in marrying you."

"And I'm sure I have even less," he agreed and he smirked at her. They ate in silence until the second course arrived, corn chowder made from brahmin's milk. Maxson want a fan, and the face he made made her giggle.

"If you're not interested in marrying, why go through this?  She asked as she filled her spoon and let the contents dribble back into her bowl. Maxson thought about the answer he _should_ give, but opted for the truth instead. 

"There's a woman. No other woman could compare to her, and I wouldn't want them to. I don't know about marrying her, or if she'd even want to marry me, but regardless the Council won't allow it. You?"

Her answer came quicker, as if she had rehearsed it. Or perhaps she just had the liberty of being able to speak the truth without a storm of criticism. Her eyes blazed a fire that shook of love; he wondered if his own looked that way. 

"I'm in love. My father forbade our marriage. I threatened to elope, so he put me on a vertibird and sent me here," she explained.  

"Does your father have a reason for hating him so much?"

"He's a she." Amelia fidgeted awkwardly and pushed her bowl of slop away. 

"I see. Well I do not believe we can simply choose our sexuality; it is decided somewhere along the way, at birth maybe. It shouldn't matter. Maybe you should elope." Arthur visibly softened. Even his face, so often held in a scowl, offered her a half smile in compassion. 

"Perhaps we will. Thank you for understanding. Perhaps you should too.-- you love her, don't you? " She smiled then; she was pretty when she was happy, and Maxson knew she could never be happy with him. He let the words sit for a moment. He was still nervous about saying them aloud, but if this girl could break her family's traditions to be with the woman she loved, surely he could admit his feelings. His face flushed, and he nodded.

"More than life." It was said barely more than a whisper, but she heard him nonetheless.

"Elder, I believe -- and you helped prove it today -- that love transcends any obstacle. The Council may not understand, but you're in a position where you can make that choice. I think you'll be alright." 

They talked about small things for the duration of the meal: the best places to see the stars, the philosophical question as to whether ghouls have souls, their favorite childhood memories. By the time they finished dessert, Maxson realized he needed this, he needed to speak about his feelings openly to someone who wouldn't judge him. The walk back to her vertibird was pleasant, and he realized he may have made a lifelong friend. 

She embraced him warmly before she boarded, hugging him tightly to her. 

"Whatever you decide, I wish you love in life, Arthur. You're an honorable man, a good man. Don't let the Council live your life for you, the world is a bad enough place as it is." She smiled then and kissed him on the cheek. He helped her onto the vertibird and found himself smiling back. He waved as it pulled away from the flight deck, hoping she would protect the same love she wished on him.

As he walked back to his quarters, feeling the weight lifted off his chest at the prospect of a life with Nora by his side, he rehearsed all the words he would say when she returned. 

He didn't care what the Council thought -- he loved her. And damn them all to Hell if they didn't understand that. He was already in Hell if he had to face one more day without her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, it's always unexpected and appreciated!


	10. Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora and Danse continue west in their search for Virgil.  
> Oh, and uh, sexytime.

Nora and Danse continued west by northwest, despite the added length of time the journey would take. They aimed to hit as many structures as they could along the way, hoping to find at least a few that were suitable to set up camp during the nights. As sweltering as it was during the day, the evenings were cold and unforgiving, and finding shelter kept them out of view from the bloodthirsty inhabitants of this radiation desert.

They walked in utter silence. Nora, feeling awkward and at a loss of words after Danse's admission, didn't want to stir up a similar conversation. Danse, for all his earlier bravado, was nervous and shy for once. Although Nora found it endearing coming from this Adonis of a man, she felt a stab of guilt in the back of her mind.

She was attracted to him, she knew that much. The way his dark eyes would hungrily linger over her waist, the way his chest muscles flexed when he changed his shirt, the way his teeth grazed her neck. More than attraction, she felt a want, a hunger for his lips on hers, for him to explore the secrets of her body with his eyes, his hands, his tongue. She wanted to has his commanding voice edging her on to oblivion. he shivered at the thought, her belly aching with need.

She knew it wasn't fair. She knew that she didn't feel as strongly for him as he felt for her, but she did feel something there. She couldn't give him everything he needed from her; she was torn and struggling with her memories of Maxson, finding herself thinking of him when she wasn't ogling her sponsor or shooting radscorpions and ferals. Her attraction to Danse was strong, but she felt a connection to Maxson. His cynical outlook reflected her own, but he brought out something more in her, something she hadn't known since she first met Nate: chemistry. Knowing Maxson needed someone she could never be hurt her to her core, but like all wounds, it needed time to heal. Maybe then she could be what Danse needed, maybe then she could learn to love him.

After killing six bloodbugs, for bloatflies, three radscorpions, and a young deathclaw, the two came across a capsized factory. Luckily this time, there was a hole in am outside wall for them to get in so they wouldn't have to climb up to the roof again. The eliminated more hostile ghouls, using far more ammo than Danse would have liked, and prevailed with only minor bruises and some radiation poisoning. _My favorite,_ thought Nora bitterly. She didn't want to use any of the RadAway since they had gone through more than half on the way here, but both her and Danse were starting to feel nauseous. She had heard rumors of a nutjob settlement just to the south where she could perhaps resupply, but they would have to skirt around ground zero. The idea didn't excite her, but since that was the direction they needed to go to reach the pinpoint on her map anyway, she decided to quit her grumbling and go with it when the time came. Today they were relatively safe; Danse had pushed several cabinets against the hole to barricade them in, and Nora did a fossil sweep to ensure there were no more hostiles. When she gave the all clear, they had to the basement and locked the door behind them.

They began their nightly routine. Nora started a small fire, just large enough to cook the supper that Danse was pulling out of his pack. Danse oulled out the bourbon and they each had a few swigs. They ate quickly, wanting to get cleaned up a bit before bed. The grime had gotten thick on both of them, and calling them putrid would have been kind. It was cool down here, away from the radiation, but their clothes were soaked. They both needed a shower; there was blood, goo, and dirt caking wherever there was exposed skin, their hair was matted in sweat under their helmets, and blisters just about everywhere that rubbed their armour.

They both exited their power armour, albeit Danse more reluctantly than her, and faced away from each other. Taking a wash cloth and purified water, they scrubbed off what they could before getting dressed in fresh fatigues. Normally, Danse would finish up before Nora, buying himself with a tedious task until she told him she was done. Today, however, Nora finished first and turned to see Danse half dressed and buckling his belt, still facing away from her. Her cheeks flushed at the sight of him. His strong back was brandishing a beautiful tattoo: a lion catching a phoenix in its mouth. Nora couldn't help herself; she right walked over and stood right behind him, her fingertips running lightly over the design. 

Danse stood completely still, not daring to even breath, lest she stop the sensual feeling of her flesh on his. He didn't know how long he stood there before he decided he could take no more. He whirled around and grabbed her shoulders, looking her in the eyes. He liked what he saw there: desire, mischief, lust. He crashed his lips over hers, running his hands along her arms as he tasted her. She trounced him off what he thought a fresh snowfall should taste like. He wondered if it ever snowed anymore.

He backed Nora onto an old, dusty mattress. He was sure his arousal was evident against her belly, but he made sure to inform her of his need with his mouth. He kissed her throat and collar bone,  and when he reached the point where b he ran out of flesh, he removed her shirt and continued his descent. He paid special attention ft of each breast, marveling in their perfection: not small, not large, but just enough for him. He removed his own shirt and the two fell to the mattress, exploring each other with hands and tongues. When he could take no more, he tugged at her pants as if it were a question. She nodded eagerly and he quickly removed them, then his own. He wasted no time, and she let out a groan as he plunged into her. 

He alternated between a slow and fast pace, and between gentleness and vigor. He wanted to experience every aspect of her, not knowing if he ever would again. He kept his eyes on her face, watching the twisting of it as each shock of pleasure hit her and her eyes rolled up in her head. With one hand he kept his fingers interwoven with hers, the other cupping her bottom and he ploved into her. When he felt her walls spasming around him as she cried out, he allowed himself to come undone. He thrust himself as deep as he could go, spilling his seed into her as he whispered her name in her ear. 

They lay there for a long while afterwards, panting and starting at the ceiling. Danse kissed her shoulder softly, but Nora didn't look at him. She got up from the mattress and cleaned herself up before pulling her clothes back on in silence. Danse followed her lead, pulling his pants back on and feeling awkward in her silence. He was unsure if she regretted her decision, or if she had found it as enjoyable as he did. He sat and watched her rush to get dressed, and didn't say a word when she sat next to him. She watched him for a moment, asking a question with her eyes, a question he could not answer. Finally, she squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek, whispering a bashful goodnight. She retrieved her sleeping bag and rolled it out across from him as she always did, but this time Danse noticed a small difference. This time she rolled away from him, facing the wall.

Danse's mind raced with all the possible reasons for her indifferent behavior. Maybe she was angry at him for taking advantage of his position, despite the fact she came to him. Maybe he wasn't very good, despite her cries telling him the oposite. Maybe she understood the complications this would have on her life. Maybe it was guilt -- she was widowed afterall, and still hadn't buried her husband despite Danse's urging. And worse yet, there could really be something behind the way she left Maxson's quarters that night, lips swollen and cheeks flushed.

The thought made him angry and jealous. He loved her, he needed her, and she needed him, whether or not she realized it. The thought of her with Maxson infuriated him. Maxson was cold and insensitive, always more concerned with his objectives, even if he did care for his soldiers. He imagined Maxson in his impressive, armoured jacket, running his fingers over her lips and through her hair. He wanted to scream, wanted to hit something. Maxson was the last of his line, he had no business toying with her heart when he knew he had to marry a woman far above he station, and soon. Danse wondered if Nora would cry when she found out, if she would run back to him or continue an affair. It wasn't unheard of, though it was frowned upon. He knew he would confront Maxson for breaking her heart then, knew they would likely throw him in the brig, but he would make sure Arthur Maxson knew his folly. He would know he had no right to Nora, not when he barely knew her, not like Danse did. 

Then it struck him: for all he knew about her, every secret, every pain, every joy, she didn't even ask for his first name. 

And that is how a grown man mourns: silently, furiously, vengefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a smut writer, I'm a romance/angst writer. I don't get too explicit, you can fill in the blanks. I want the emotion to be felt. I never claimed it was erotica, but I'll change the rating just in case.


	11. Enough

The cave where Virgil was hiding was unassuming, though not well hidden at all. They had passed through the Crater of Atomic -- the wacko settlement that insisted on worshipping an inanimate object. But no ordinary object, no. A wacko group of people had to worship something worthy of their devotion, so the insisted on singing praise to the _fucking atomic bomb_. They were friendly enough, offering shelter for the night, so Nora and Danse resupplied as best they could and went to their assigned room for the night. 

It wasn't much, two beds and a nightstand, but Nora happily tossed her pack aside and slumped onto the bed. Danse noiselessly took the bed beside hers and chewed on some of the brahmin jerkey. He wasn't really hungry, but he wasn't sure what to say.  Dealing with Nora for the last few days had been a lesson in patience. She never spoke unless it was about the mission and refused to look him in the eye. It was as if they were strangers all over again. The silence had become unbearably loud, and his ears were bleeding. Even now, sitting directly across from one another, she refrained from treating him as any more than a piece of furniture. He waited;  one moment became two, and she curled in a ball on her side as though she were asleep. Two minutes became ten, her breaths so shallow he was certain she was still awake. Ten minutes became thirty, her body lasting rigid as she waited for him to take his place on his mattress.

Danse couldn't take it anymore. He rose from his rust coloured mattress and sat next to her, keeping his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Still, she did not move. He cleared his throat, still nothing. He didn't dare touch her, lest she recoiled from him; his heart couldn't bear rejection a second time. He wished he was good at talking to her, but his mouth filled with cotton every time she was near. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. 

"Nora, have I done something wrong?" He asked, his voice gentle and sad. She didn't answer for a moment, and Danse was worried maybe he had waited too long to say something and that she had fallen asleep. Her shoulders slowly shifted as she turned to face him, her eyes masked with confusion and conflict one again. 

"No, Danse, no. I just -- I don't know what to say. We jumped into something, and I don't know what I'm doing. I have to get Shaun, and figure out what I'm doing. I don't know what I want, or if I want anything at all. I care for you, I truly do, but I don't want to string you along for a ride when I might hop off. I can have a physical relationship with you, for now, but..." She trailed off, leaving her thought unfinished. 

"But you're saving your heart for someone else," he answered, defeated. She didn't answer, looking down at the floor in shame. She wanted to lie and say she was saving it for herself, to heal, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. 

"Do you regret it?" 

"No. Regret is something you wish you could take back. I won't insult you and pretend I didn't have a good time. If that's all you want, I can give that to you for now, but you don't, do you?" She asked, already knowing the answer. "I don't want to hurt you." Her words were choked and her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, but her gaze never left his. In this, she was truthful, and she wanted him to know it.

"If that is all you will give me, I will gladly take it to be next to you, even if it hurts." He tilted her head to meet his gaze when she looked away, offering her silent forgiveness in advance. She nodded once, slowly, and offered a small smile before pulling him down next to her on the mattress. The two stared up at the ceiling, their heads and fingers touching, wondering what was in store in the future; Nora worried about Shaun, and Danse worried about Nora.

The next morning, they were off again with very convenient directions, putting as many miles between them and the cultists as they could. It wasn't long before they were standing in front of Virgil's cave, marveling at the simplicity of it. Nora instructed Danse to remain out of sight, to which he wanted to protest, but she reminded him of Maxson's orders and he relented with a scowl. She offered him the most confident smile that she could muster, and he smiled back with the same. She waved and disappeared into the cave'she shadowy mouth, leaving him to wait impatiently fit her to re-emerge. In reality, she was probably gone no longer than ten minutes, but Danse didn't know what was waiting for her in there, and to him it seemed like an eternity. 


	12. I Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora refuses to reveal she knows the secret of getting into the Institute, but Danse drops a secret of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update yesterday, wasn't feeling it. Here, have some angst.

Nora watched Danse from the shadows of the cave's mouth as he paced. He kicked at the dry, cracked earth in agitation while he waited, checking his timepiece every few moments. She knew he was strong and courageous under that suit, but she wondered if his face was downcast and pouting like a child denied a seat at the big boy table. Part of her wanted to assure him that she was fine, the other part wanted to make him sweat it out so she could walk out later as if nothing had happened -- as though she was simply using a prewar mall washroom after shopping. She sighed; he was far too protective. She knew his intentions were good, but not even Maxson worried that much, and his name was riding on the mission.

Maxson. She missed him, despite their last conversation. She missed the game that she played, trying to get him to crack a smile while he tried to retain his stoic composure. She missed the way his eyes would light up when she entered the room and her gaze met his. She remembered the feeling of his hands on her jaw, fingers in her hair. His lips crashing into hers -- a scene she long dreamed of. She knew it wasn't possible that she could have fallen for him the first time she saw him; he was addressing a room full of recruits, and not once did his eyes land on her. His face had been twisted into a scowl then, he was oozing seriousness and determination, and she was caught up in it just as the other recruits were. She knew it wasn't possible; love was slowly built with time, trust, and romance -- but she saw something in him: a passion, a kinship, an understanding. She often imagined waking up next to him, wrapped in his embrace, somewhere far away from the Prydwyn. Sometimes she wondered about whether she wanted more children, and what they would look like with him as their father. Or what her name would sound like tumbling from his mouth in a whisper as he gripped the sheets.

Now, all she could wonder was whether or not he thought of her at all, and whether or not he missed her. He had been clear; whatever they had was over before it had a chance to begin. She felt foolish for ever carrying such feelings for a man who was used to having the best of everything. He was a man of refine; he would choose a woman of the same. Status. Power. Respect. Sure, she was the General of the Minutemen: a ragtag group of idealistic settlers with no formal training and only the will to survive. The militia and its people respected her. But they would never mean a thing to the Brotherhood. She won a few battles, giving her the title of Knight, but it didn't command respect the way it did two hundred years before, and made her only slightly more respected in the ranks than a fresh recruit.

No, despite how hard she wanted to be, she wasn't suited for Arthur Maxson. Maybe she should move on with Danse. Maybe she should let her herself forget the man her heart gravitated towards, in hopes that her loneliness would subside and she could live a full life. Soon she would have her son back, and the boy would need a good man to show him how to survive in this cruel world. Maybe she would leave the Brotherhood after the Institute was obliterated into yesteryear. Leave the life behind. Forget Maxson altogether. 

Nora stepped into the irradiated wastes and watched as Danse visibly relaxed. She offered a small wave to indicate all was well, and Danse stood taller. When she approached him, and gestured to their surroundings. 

"I thought you would have taken a midday promenade, Paladin. Not up for the exercise?" She joked, the distortion from her helmet somehow making it funnier to her than it should have been. Danse didn't respond to the joke, his usual demeanor taking over now that his relief had passed.

"What did you discover, soldier?" He asked, authority taking over his tone. 

"I guess you're going to have to wait, aren't you?" She smirked, though it's effect was lost through the concealment of her face. 

"What do you mean? How are we getting in?"

"Is the suspense killing you, Danse? I think I should go directly to Elder Maxson, and he can decide how to proceed."

"Knight, I am your superior officer. If we both don't make it back, one of us has to report this. Do you not trust me suddenly? Or is this really about you and Maxson?" Danse's eyes narrowed and Nora's flew open in surprise. 

"What? Why would you even think that? I was only joking Danse!"

"Well, I'm not. I saw you that night. Leaving his quarters." 

He finally said it. He had been holding onto this knowledge for a week. He had wanted to confront her immediately, but the heartbreak he felt was immeasurable. Seeing her leave Maxson's quarters, her face flushed and lips swollen, her fingertips lingering on the Elder’s as she left the threshold and scurried guiltily in the darkness to her own bunk. He had been holding onto this hot coal so tightly: his anger at her for keeping it secret but still being intimate with him, more than once. His anger at Maxson for stealing what was rightfully his, that which Maxon would never appreciate. 

"So what Danse? What are you saying?"

"Dammit Nora!" He yelled, ignoring the fact an enemy spy might be lurking within the cave she had just emerged from. "I know! I know there is something between the two of you! I've seen the looks, heard the flirtations, witnessed the late night liasons! Will you lie to me and deny it?" He raged.

"Danse," she said, her voice soft as though she were speaking to an angry mutt instead of a man, her friend. "I never denied any of those things. Whatever Maxson and I had was short-lived. He doesn't own me. He made it very clear where his duty lay."

"So, I'm just supposed to forget that my superior slept with the woman I love? Am I not supposed to be reminded every time I look at him -- at you?" Nora heard the unspoken words in his voice, the accusations and the venom. 

"I never slept with the Elder, Paladin. I understand you have feelings for me, but this jealousy is unwarranted and unacceptable. We had terms for our relationship." Nora was becoming angry now herself, and was trying to keep her composure. 

Danse silenced and let he words sink in. If she hadn't slept with the Elder, he had made a very grave mistake. Several in fact. His rage quieted, and Danse felt more foolish than he ever had. Trust was a frail thing, and he might have just lost it, and her in the process. 

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm just - it hurts to think about you with him. I have no rights over you, I know that. But it still bothers me to think of you being intimate with someone else when we have this," he gestured to both of them. "Whatever this is." 

Nora eyed him for a moment. It was easy to forgive him, his feelings were genuine and his apology was sincere. But exclusivity was the beginning of a formal relationship, one with strings attached. Strings she had specified she didn't want from him. She loved Danse dearly, but she wasn't in love with him, and that made all the difference in the world. As much as she claimed Maxson didn't own her, she knew he did; her heart belonged to him and the strings attached were miles long. She may not be in Arthur's, but he stayed in her heart and built a fucking hotel to boot. There was no room for anyone else at the inn. In that moment, she knew she would have to choose: a normal life with a man she didn't love, or a life in Hell without the man she did. 

"Danse, I accept your apology. We're both tired and tense. Let's just get back to the Prydwyn and really think everything through before anything else happens, alright?" 

Her tone left no room for argument, and so they made their way back the way they came, ignoring each other's stinging words. Though they were never more than a few feet apart, they were miles away from each other with empty conversations and unspoken thoughts.


	13. Death Warrant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora has someone watching out for her, and someone watching -- from the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys wanted to see more Maxson/Nora so I skipped the trek back to the safe zone. This will be all flashbacks to keep you in the loop. Next chapter will focus on them, but this chapter is important for the plot.

Nora woke slowly, taking in the pain that engulfed her body. She could feel the linen gauze wrapped around her in various places, the soft cot under her body, could see the bright light behind groggy eyelids. She tried to move and found her arm was in a sling, her leg in a cast. A sharp pain drowned out all the others: a stabbing and grinding feeling in her side, just under her right arm. She let out a groan, losing herself to the blackness of unconsciousness.

*           *           *

She had been trudging through the wastes with Danse walking behind her, nearly home free, when she first heard it: a low, guttural growl, followed by the earth shaking footsteps of a savage deathclaw. She had never faced off with a savage deathclaw in an open space before; the only other pissed off, maternal deathclaw she came across was at the museum of witchcraft where it was confined and had little space to move its massive form to attack. Here, the beast would be able to move freely and fiercely. With no nook to shelter in, they would be forced to fight.

The only thing that made it worse, was when she heard a separate, more baritone, growl, and a set of lighter, though no less terrifying, footfalls. The female usually traveled alone, unless it was mating season. Either this chance meeting was an anomaly, or they had stumbled onto the worst possible case scenario, where the female was twice as large as the male, and her hormones made her twice as aggressive.

Nora took a step back, slowly, and reached for the only possible thing that would save them now: a vertibird signal grenade.

*           *           *

"Patient has been in and out of consciousness, not appearing to know where she is. I have been unable to verbally inform her as to the number of pharmaceuticals she is currently being administered. I would expect no less due to the nature of injuries, regardless of her unique, perfect health. The stimpack dosages were unsuccessful with any limb damage repairs, but the sedative is keeping her heart rate from reelevating. Monitoring shall continue."

Nora moaned quietly and tried to sit up before strong hands restrained her.

"I wouldn't advise that. You need to remain calm and as still as possible. Your injuries are quite extensive," a familiar voice explained. Nora focused her eyes on the hazy blur hovering over her, squinting against the offensive brightness of the room.

"Cade?" She asked, her voice cracking and dry.

"Who else?" He smiled grimly as he checked her pulse.

"How... how did I get here?" She tried to recall a rescue, but her memory was foggy at best.

"What, you don't recall your heroic saviour rescuing you and nearly killing himself in the process? I didn't think that even nearly splitting your skull open would make you forget that." He grinned, pointedly referring to the gauze around her head, bandaging the back of her skull.

"Danse! Is he alright?" Her heart pounded when Cade's smile faded into a serious frown.

"Danse is in rough shape too, though not nearly as bad as you. It's Elder Maxon you should be worried about."

*           *           *

Maxson had insisted on coming with the flight crew that was dispatched to extract Nora and Danse, despite every warning his crew gave him. What if they were in danger?  He couldn't let them die, he told them. He needed to see for himself, to hear any last words. He had been pacing in his quarters, awaiting the last woman to leave. She had made a point to remain aboard the Prydwyn for days after meeting Maxson, and he couldn't think of a more corrosive personality. 

So when the flight crew was dispatched, Maxson was the first to board the craft. He had used the minigun with ferocity when he saw the situation: one deathclaw had Danse pinned below its body, while the largest deathclaw he had ever seen had Nora separated from him, as it was trying to chew through her power armour. When the mini gun had depleted its ammunition and the smaller deathclaw lay dead, Maxson ordered the vertibird to descend. 

Without thinking, he leapt from the aircraft and began unloading his laser rifle into the massive beast. It's hide was so thick that the modded weapon did little more than get the monstrosity's attention. It left Nora bleeding where she was, and knocked Maxson to the ground. It used its massive weight to hold his torso flush with the radioactive debris littering the ground; its breath hot sulphur against his cheek. His helmet had flown who-knows-where when he fell, and the bursts of laser weapons from the flight crew were only making it angrier. Such tough hide could not be penetrated; the effect was akin to using a bug zapper against a brahmin. 

Maxson's armour was nearly shredded, and he let out a loud curse when the razor sharp claws of the beast tore through his flesh. He saw stars for a moment, bright white and flickering. The deathclaw began trying to chomp down on Maxson's face, but his smaller frame made him faster. He ducked, bringing his power armoured arm up enough to give the beast pause. 

Then he unloaded an entire clip into the fucker's mouth, and straight into its brain before it collapsed on him and he blacked out.

*           *           *

Danse came in to visit her a few days later, bringing a stash of gum drops and bubble gum, along with her favorite comic book. She thanked him weakly, still feeling the effects of the radiation poisoning she came down with after having her head smashed in. Her head was still pounding, and the painkillers did little to help it, but she needed news. Not knowing how Arthur was doing was eating her alive, but she was forbidden from leaving her cot. Cade made sure she didn't, with several IVs, monitors, and even a catheter. No one would tell her much, insisting the injuries were life threatening but he was stable. Nora would have put up a fuss if she had the energy, but as it was, she barely had the energy to answer Cade's questions, let alone challenge him. 

"How are you feeling?" He asked her, quieter than she had ever heard him. His brow was creased in concern, his dark eyes pools of worry. He took her hand in his, offering it a small squeeze.

"Like shit," she managed with a small smirk. "I don't remember anything. I heard we got rescued. Are you ok?" 

"Couple of broken ribs, a lacerated kidney and a concussion. I'll live. They told me you likely wouldn't live through the night, I was so scared you would die." Danse clasped his hands and bowed his head into them, biting back tears.

"You know me, fuck the status quo." Her eyes fluttered closed, and she held her breath for a moment. "How is Maxson?"

"Alive. Although they aren't sure for how long. He's on a ventilator right now, more stitches than I've ever seen. They're already discussing the next Elder to replace him." Danse clenched his fists and started off into a distant thought. 

"Can they do that?" She asked, taken aback by the audacity of the idea. 

"They can if he dies," he said softly, pointedly not looking at her.

"He can't die! Danse, I have to see him. Please, help me. This is all my fault."

"No. It's not your fault, Nora. You're a soldier, you've completed your mission. Elder Maxson made his own choice; he didn't have to come with the vertibird. Don't take away from his sacrifice." It was probably the most selfless thing Danse had ever said, and Nora knew then, his rivalry with the Elder was not in bad blood. He loved him as a brother. Danse once told her he would kick in the gates of hell for Maxson. It was then she realized that Danse's feelings for her would not change that. She was glad for that. 

"You won't help me, will you?" She asked solemnly. Danse shook his head. 

"I'm sorry. I have my orders. As it stands, Cade didn't want anyone in here. I snuck in, and I'll be in deep if he finds out. Please, just rest and recover, I'll update you on his condition when I can, I promise."

Danse offered her hand one final squeeze, and left her in solitude. 

*           *           *

"We can't have this happen again. She's already ruined our plans for the heir. Now, he laying in the ICU. That woman is ruining the Brotherhood. If he survives, make no mistake, he will marry her, our opinion be damned. If he dies, she will have singlehandedly done what our enemies could not: wipe out the Maxson line. For these reasons, I ask that the Council honors my request for a death warrant, to be issued immediately." His voice added emphasis to his final point, letting silence fall over the room. Several members turned into the circle centre and whispered amongst themselves while the man stood as still as a statue in the Council Chamber shadows.

"We cannot, in good conscience, issue a death warrant to an exemplary Knight, especially one who may have the key to Elder Maxson's mission. She has not broken a Brotherhood tenet as far as we can tell, in fact she upholds them."

"What of her freak circus?" He asked, referring to the individuals she called friends. 

"Get their whereabouts and eliminate them. However, there is no document that expressly forbids association with non-hostile ghouls or supermutants. The issue with Synths is the burden of proof."

"She's a traitor!"

"And either Elder Maxson or his successor will determine her guilt. We will not order the execution of one of our own. Although..." the Council chairwoman trailed off. "We would not be overly distraught if she succumbed to her _dreadful_ injuries."

"I'll see to it, Counsellor. Might I offer my regrets at Amelia's unfortunate situation, she's a lovely girl."

"Indeed, soldier. Dismissed. "


	14. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse sneaks Nora in to see Maxson.

Three days had passed and Danse hadn't come to see her. Nora passed her time playing on her pip boy, but there was only so many times she could beat her high score before she started to grow restless. Being cooped up like a helpless animal was one thing, but not knowing Maxson's condition was gnawing at her. She wasn't eating or sleeping, and the lack of self-care was causing her own condition to deteriorate. Still, Cade told her nothing, insisting Maxson's status was restricted to doctor/patient confidentiality.

Danse had arrived the evening of her fourth day awake. The color had returned to his face, and many of his bruises were gone. He smiled warmly as he tiptoed into the otherwise empty ward, coming to rest at her bedside.

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick and bored out of my mind!" She demanded.

"Nora, I was confined to my quarters for a while until my condition improved. Cade didn't want me up and around. I came as soon as I could. I only received permission to leave this morning, and I had to see Maxson first, as I promised."

"How is he?" She asked, her voice quivering.

"Significantly better. He's breathing on his own, spending more time conscious than not, and he's the worst behaved patient Knight Captain Cade has ever had."

"What's going on?"

Danse sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Nora, there's something you should know. While we were away, there were arrangements for Arthur to meet with a dozen women and decide between them." He said gently.

"Choose them for what?" She asked. Danse saw the confusion and hurt in her eyes, not wanting to be the one to tell her, but knowing no one else would.

"Marriage. He hasn't given an official answer yet, but Cade has been pressuring him. Every time he tries, Elder Maxson becomes agitated, violent. Well, as violent as he can be in his state. They've had to sedate him on multiple occasions to keep him confined to his bed. He's trying to come see you. He's been asking for you, and they're telling him that you're indisposed. He has ordered me to retrieve you, overruling Cade's orders of no contact."

"Well then? Why are we still talking? Help me into the wheelchair and let's go!" She cried, gesturing wildly to the unused chair at the end of her bed.

"I just -- I want you to be prepared. I don't know why he's angry, he won't speak to me about it. And his face... with all the internal injuries they didn't focus on treatment for the damage yet. It's shocking. You need to be strong for him. No matter what, remember he needs hope to survive this. It's what he needs most right now."

Nora nodded slowly, taking it all in. Her mind want processing the information; the notion that Elder Maxson, the most powerful man she knew, needed her to offer him a reason to live was beyond her comprehension. She loved him, but after all that had happened -- his last words to her before the Glowing Sea, the rescue, those women -- she was certain she was the last person that could offer him hope.

Danse helped her into the wheelchair, taking extra care to not further injure her cracked ribs, and draped a blanket around her. Her head had been unbandaged, but she had no chance to bathe or wash her hair; her blood still matted it to her scalp. Danse carefully untangle her IVs, hooking the bag over the bag of the chair before pushing her down the hall and to Maxson's own room. He paused outside the steel door, turning to her.

"Cade says he could have suffered brain damage that causes his violent outbursts. Please, if you notice anything, call for me. I'll be right outside the door." Danse gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and she offered him a reassuring smile in return. He opened the door and pushed her chair inside and next to his bed where the Elder was dozing. Without a word, Danse retreated from the room, closing the heavy door behind him.

Nora had tried to prepare herself for what she might have seen, but there were no words that could express her sadness in that moment. This must have been why Danse was so understanding and kind. Why he warned her. Maxson's face was split nearly in two by a deep gash from his left brow to the right side of his chin, the skin roughly stitched closed and heavily bruised. His chest was covered in gauze and compression bandages, keeping his bones in place. His stomach was a mess of staples and stitches from a long laceration running from under his bandages to below his navel. His right arm was in a cast, his left was stitched below his shoulder. And those were the injuries that the sheet left exposed. Who knows what lie beneath. 

She let out a choked sob then, taking his unbound hand in his. His eyes slowly opened; his left eyelid moved only half way, it was so swollen. Blood had pooled within the whites of the eye underneath where the capillaries had ruptured. Nora tried to smile but failed, hiccuping when she tried to mask her tears.

"You came," he whispered, his swollen lips upturning as she gripped his hand tighter. She shook her head in bewilderment.

"Of course I came, Arthur. Why would I not?"

"Cade said you wouldn't see me. Danse said he lied. I knew you were angry with me, so I didn't know what to believe."

She shook her head, the tears flying off and hitting his arm. He opened his hand and she wove her fingers through his.

"I'm not angry with you. Well, maybe a little. Why did you come for us? You should have sent someone else, I never would have forgiven myself if you died."

"Why? I hurt you, letting the Council back me into a corner like that. I said horrible things to you. I'm so sorry Nora, I need you to know that, in case--"

"I won't let you die. You can't."

Maxson smiled bitterly and looked away. Nora turned his face back towards her, the same way he had an eternity ago. He still would not meet her eyes. 

"Because I'm Elder?" He asked, his voice overcome with sadness.

"No, Arthur. Not because you are Elder." His eyes met hers with that, and the sadness she saw there nearly broke her heart. She gently pressed her soft lips to his, breathing in his scent and feeling his warmth. She felt his tears mix with hers, tasted the salt of them both, and broke away.

"I love you Nora," he whispered. "But look at me. I'm a broken man. I may never walk again. May never hold a gun again. I can't protect you. And you can't spend your life taking care of a cripple. It hurt me when you were away, knowing what I said to you and the pain I caused. But to subject you to a life like that... it would kill me," he wept openly, holding her to him despite the pain in his chest; he didn't know if it was broken bones or his broken heart that caused it.  

"Oh Arthur," she sighed, her heart aching for his lost pride. She kissed his neck and buried her face into it, trying to comfort him. "You pushed me away once before. If you love me, don't do it again. Let me make this decision for myself. I want to help you through this, no matter what it takes, I won't abandon you. Even if you order me to leave, I'm still going to hurt, you can't protect me from that. But I'm in love with you, so at least if I'm going to hurt, it should be at your side. I'll take care of you, I promise. And when you've recovered, it will be worth it."

"How can you say that? Look at me, Nora. I'm a monster! How is this worth it? I'll never be what I was! That's false hope, for both of us!" He shouted. 

Nora looked at him warmly, running her fingers gently over the deep gashes in his face, feeling every stitch there. He closed his eyes tightly, savoring her touch against his marred flesh -- a comfort greater than he would admit. 

"You're not a monster. You may never be what you were, but you'll always be who you were. At least to me," she assured him. 

"And when they depose me as Elder? When I have nothing left to give you because I'm so empty?" His voice softened, but his eyes were hard, cold.

"I don't care about your rank, Arthur. If they depose you, if you lose everything, we'll find a place to settle. If you're empty, I'll use every ounce of myself to fill you. I swear to you, I love you. I want to be with you. I don't want anything else, so please, trust me. I promise you, we'll get through this. No matter what it takes."

Her eyes and kiss were sincere, easing his stress and pain. Maxson nodded against her mouth; his tears, now, were of joy rather than sorrow. He urged her beside him on the large bed. She carefully climbed in beside him, avoiding his injuries as best she could. Nora kissed his exposed shoulder, and gently grazed her fingers across his back. She began to hum a song he had never heard before, and before long the gentle lull put him back to sleep.

The withdrawal of her warmth woke him, and he panicked with her sudden absence. He tried to sit up to find her in the darkness, catching her hand and pulling her to him once more. 

"Stay," he begged, and she curled her body against his, and his head gently rested on her arm.

"What will you tell people?" She asked quietly, her breath warm against his brow.

"The truth: you're mine now, and I'm yours. I have been from the first time I saw you."

They fell asleep like that, entangled in each other's arms. 

*           *           *

When dawn approached, Paladin Danse quietly opened the door to his cabin, pulling his gun on the shadowy man that stood within.

"We need to talk, Paladin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this chapter, where Maxson is dealing with his injuries, it's taken from my own experience in dealing with emotions surrounding the helplessness and despair that came with temporary paralysis. It was difficult to write, since I've never spoken about it before.


	15. Sooner Than You Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse is faced with a choice, and Maxson asks him about the Glowing Sea..

"No. I won't do it."

"Your duty is to the Brotherhood, Paladin Danse. She may not be an immediate threat, and her intentions may be pure. But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. She is a threat for the sort of future she brings to the Brotherhood. Her ideals, her soft heart for things that she doesn't understand. I'm not an evil man, Richard. I do not ask this of you lightly. My source has stressed to me the importance of this, as I now stress it to you." 

The man in hooded rags kept his face in shadow while Danse paced his quarters, such as it was. His bony fingers rapped on the steel table, but to Danse, the sound was right under his skin.

"You promised me. You swore that if I got you intel on Maxson's indiscretions, her and I could be together. Now you want me to kill her?" He hissed, keeping his voice low in the early morning hours lest he wake members of his crew.

"Kill her? Ha! No, it would be too obvious. I simply want you to... get rid of her. Make it so that she is unfit for duty, and unfit for Maxson. He was nearly to that conclusion himself. Once she gets to the Institute and Maxson discovers her treachery, he will see the truth."

"What damn treachery? She's a valuable member of my team!"

"Watch your tone and remember your place. Do not let your feelings for her cloud your judgement, Danse. You wouldn't want Maxson to hear of your own... indiscretions." The man drawled on the last word, letting it sink in for a moment while he brushed dust off his uniform. Danse glared daggers at him, wishing he could see the man's face and tear it from his skull.

"Oh, Richard. That scowl is unbecoming. Now, your ladyfriend is very important to my source. She knows a secret, but is unaware of it as yet. When she puts together all the pieces, she will become very dangerous to us all. And to put our charismatic leader in the middle of such madness is unacceptable. You must convince her to leave the Brotherhood, or I will be forced to reveal everything to Maxson."

"What if I can't convince her? What if she's too invested in the Brotherhood, or in Maxson, to leave? Will you ruin Arthur's life to protect this secret?"

"The real question is: will you ruin his life or protect yours?"

 

*           *           *

 

"What happened in the Glowing Sea, Danse?" Arthur asked, reviewing his report from his sick bed . "Knight Nora tells me you both made good time until you stumbled onto a den of feral ghouls."

"Sir?"

"Well, you were injured, were you not?" Maxson asked, tapping his clipboard with his pen.

"Yes sir, Nora treated me in the field for a concussion and minor contusions. We remained sheltered until we were fit for travel." Danse fidgeted in his seat, pretending the numerous IVs made him uncomfortable. In truth, they did make him feel slightly nauseous, but he could not admit that a few tubes made him queasy when Maxson took on a _fucking savage deathclaw._ Alone. 

"It says here that you consumed a bottle of bourbon after treatment, which has negative repercussions for brain recovery." His eyes didn't meet Danse's as he flipped through Nora's report.

"Sir, we were in the middle of the wasteland. Death from brain injury was the least of my worries." Danse tried to deflect with humour.

"I guess what I'm wondering is, the two of you consumed copious amounts of quality alcohol, which is more than enough to lower inhibitions, especially under stressful circumstances..." He paused and looked up at Danse under scrutinizing eyes. "Did you and Knight Nora engage in intimate relations while in the Glowing Sea, or at any other point in time?"

Danse felt all the air rush from his lungs as his heart sped up to what felt like supersonic speed. He didn't want to lie to Maxson --  he might discover the truth; that blackmailing asshole might tell him out of spite, or he could stumble upon some kind of mysteriously placed evidence. But if he told the truth now, both he and Nora would be thrown in the brig for who knows how long, or thrown out of the order if Maxson claims he had been courting her before the mission. Danse would lose his best friend, who currently needed support to overcome his most difficult challenge yet, and Nora would never forgive him. He knew she loved Maxson, she didn't have to tell him. And no matter how much he hated Maxson for capturing her heart, he could never take that from her. No, if she wanted a life with Danse, he needed her to decide that out of love, not desperation. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Arthur. We've been friends a long time, I thought you would know me better than to fraternize with fellow Brotherhood soldiers." He skirted around the question, implying his innocence without directly stating it, hoping Maxson wouldn't notice.

"Indeed, Richard. It's just... I need to be sure, that there's no chance of... further surprises down the road. There would be no punishment if it were true, I just need you to be straight with me. My legacy needs to be secure."

"I don't follow, sir." Danse said, thoroughly confused.

Maxson took a deep breath, looking his best friend in the eye.

"I'm going to ask her to marry me. When she gets back from the institute and has her son. With no further complications, I see no reason she would refuse."

Danse's heart was probably somewhere in the Commonwealth now, it dropped so fast. He would lose Nora forever if she agreed. If Maxson learned the truth, they would both hate him. Either way, he would lose her.

"I, uh, I'm happy for you both sir. We can only hope we destroy the Institute soon so that you both can find peace and happiness." The words felt like poison in Danse's mouth, he wanted his friend to know those valuable luxuries, but it pained him to no end that it would be Nora he experienced them with.

"Sooner than you think, my friend." Maxson smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Sooner than you think."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who could the Source be? Who is the shadowy man? What plans is Maxson keeping from Danse?
> 
> Duh duh duuhhhhhhhhhh
> 
> Find out next time! Same bat time, same bat channel! 
> 
> (If you don't know, only Teletoon Retro will save you. Poor things.)


	16. Caretaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora has to help Maxson with not only some of the more... sensitive areas of his medical care, but also his pride. Her devotion to him in this stressful time shines through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not proofread. At all. Pretend I did, because you love me, ok?

"For Christ's sake, how can you be so cruel?"

"I'm sorry! I--"

"Just.... stop touching me. Cade! Cade!" Maxson screamed for the doctor, his bellow echoing throughout sick bay.

"Shhh, lower your voice," Nora warned as several Scribes shot glances as they passed his temporary room.

"I can't take it Nora, I can't. This is killing me!"

"Arthur, stop. The deathclaw nearly killed you. I assure you, you're nowhere near death." Nora's eyes held the sparkle of laughter but her expression remained serious. Maxson let out a defeated sigh and let her carry on with her ministrations as Cade smirked behind his clipboard. 

The deep tissue massage therapy was designed to eliminate the chance of blood pooling in his legs, which could potentially cause blood clots leading to stroke, and ultimately death. Arthur had refused to wear the compression stockings that Cade had offered, so until he was able to walk on his own, he would need the massage twice daily. The Knight Captain had assigned a medical scribe to attend to this initially, but when Maxson frightened the meek woman away with his angry roaring, Cade gave the task to Nora knowing she was the only person Maxson wouldn't have thrown in the brig. 

"Well, it damn well feels like it," he grumbled with a scowl, and Nora chuckled softly. She finished up and placed an ice pack on his thighs while she began moving his lower limbs in circular motions. Maintaining full range of movement was important, Cade had explained. It would keep his legs from atrophy and allow them to function without stiffness later on.

"Just think about how great it will feel to walk to the podium and address your men after the Institute's defeat. You won't have a need for anyone then," she reminded him kindly, attempting to boost his spirits.

Maxson had been absolutely miserable for the past six weeks. His pride had suffered greatly, being fussed over like an invalid child. For the first while, he had to be helped with everything: eating, dressing, sitting, and bathing, since his dominant hand was unusable and he was useless with his left. He wouldn't let anyone but Cade help him at first, but having the older man see his younger Elder as feeble and weak grated on Maxson's nerves. He relented to having Nora help him with most tasks, though bathing was still done by a reluctant Cade. 

Maxson interlaced his fingers with Nora's, catching her eyes with his own. The swelling had long since gone down, though the scar was still deep and gruesome.

"I'll always have a need for you," he assured her. She wiped a single tear away and kissed him tenderly while Cade huffed and pointedly turned away. Maxson reveled in her kiss, but when her fingers touched his scar, he broke away, turning his eyes to the wall. Nora sighed heavily and kissed his palm, knowing words would not be enough to alter his thoughts.

"Come on, it's time for your shower." She insisted, pulling his wheelchair close to the bed. Arthur's face went scarlet at the suggestion and he helplessly looked at Cade. Usually, the doctor just undressed him and wheeled him into the shower, leaving him to wash himself as best he could. This wasn't procedure, as Arthur wasn't technically clean, but he always passed. Cade shrugged at him apologetically.

"Knight Nora has undertaken the majority of your care, leaving me free to administer to my other patients. Sick bay has gotten backed up, so the less I have to do, the better."

"Is this appropriate, Knight Captain?" Maxson asked, annoyed that he hadn't been made aware as to any changes in his care.

"Not entirely, but that's never stopped either of you before," Cade answered with a dismissive wave. Nora helped Maxson into the chair carefully, and leaned down to his ear.

"If it makes you feel better, you can picture me naked," she purred. "It should be fairly easy, since I don't plan to be wearing anything." Maxson turned redder, though it seemed hardly possible. He closed his gaping jaw when she flashed her pearly whites at him in a mischievous grin and nipped at his neck. "It's only fair."

Before wheeling him into the walk-in shower in his private washroom, Nora turned his chair around to face him. His eyes showed he was as nervous as a young boy, and she gently kissed his cheek.

"I promise, I won't see anything that you don't want me to. I brought an extra towel to bring in with you. I'll help you undress, but I'll close my eyes. If you want to take off the towel it's up to you. If it's covered, I'll leave it to you to wash. Ok? You can trust me, Arthur. I'm not here to take advantage of you, " she assured him. Her eyes were kind, sincere. Maxson nodded slowly and unfolded the towel. 

Nora removed his clothing with the care of a mother undressing her newborn. The towel was draped around his waist as she had him stand and lean against her. She tugged his pants and underclothes down, discarding them against the tilted wall. She had him sit on a plastic bench in the shower as she removed the rest of his clothing. His exposed chest showed a myriad of scars, the most recent of which was from his heroic rescue. She ran her fingers over it lightly and he shuddered; her fingertips were cool against his warm skin.

He closed his eyes. Memories of that day had never truly left him. The image of her, cornered against the massive creature, her partner unconscious nearby, the smell of its breath in his face, is terrifying roar as it tore the flesh from his bones. He remembered the fear; not fear for himself, but for her. Of never again hearing her voice or feeling her lips against his. Reality came back to him when warm water splashed against his shoulders, the spray warm and familiar. 

"I don't want to get my clothes all wet, but would you rather I keep them on?" She asked innocently.

In truth, he did. Not because he was afraid of sex, or indifferent to it, but because seeing her so exposed would leave him without his senses. The list thing he wanted was to have his first time with her to be one of caution, reserve, or disappointment. He knew he would be unable to stop himself from wanting her, from pulling her to him and discarding the towel. He couldn't have her see him in that state: full of lust but unable to do anything about it, unable to satisfy her. He once again hated himself for his shortcomings, no matter how temporary. 

"Not if it makes you uncomfortable." He would restrain himself. He would be a perfect gentleman. She smiled gently and touched his face. 

"If you change your mind, let me know. I would rather _you_ not be uncomfortable, Arthur. I don't mind giving you a show, to remind you of what you're waiting for."

He nodded again, and she disappeared for a moment before joining him in the shower, behind him and as the day she was born. She really had no idea just how hard she was making that wait, but it would be worth it. She smiled at him reassuringly when he turned to see her, and she kissed him more with more passion than she ever had. 

"Now sit forward and I'll scrub your back, " she told him sternly. He cracked a smile and obeyed as she soaped his back and shoulders. She gave him another massage then, slick with soap and sensual as she worked the kinks out of his neck, lovingly running her fingers over his stiff spine. He tried not to think of her hands somewhere else or touching his newfound treasures that her body held. 

"Cruel indeed," he muttered, his shoulders turning to jelly under her hands. She laughed lightly and washed his hair, keeping his back to her to limit his temptations. She knew the reason for his nervousness, he realized, and was trying to make him feel safe. When she stepped in front of him, her opened his eyes and took her in, taking in an audible deep breath. He had never known a woman so beautiful, and his heart swelled with love. She washed his shins and his chest, taking care to be as professional and quick as possible. He longed to touch her, to feel her soft flesh under his palms. He reached for her, trailing his index finger from her collar bone to her nipple. Just as suddenly, he ripped his hand away as though she had burned him.

He wanted to weep. He felt so helpless then, being a prisoner in his own body, wanting to pursue things he had no right to. She deserved a man who could make love to her, satisfy her, take care of her the way she did him. He looked at her with such conflict he felt he would implode. But her eyes, ever gentle, showed understanding. She would take the blame for his weakness, she would save him from himself in this moment. 

"I'm sorry, Arthur, I can't. I love you, but I'm not ready. I thought I was, I'm so sorry," she said as she retreated from the water. She toweled off and redressed, and he was grateful. She waited patiently behind the curtain for him to finish up, and draped a fresh towel over his lap as soon as the water shut off and he emerged. 

"I'm sorry," she repeated with tears in her eyes, and he wondered if she meant for this or his injuries.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, " he whispered assuringly. 

She patted him down with a dry towel, silently crying in the steamy room. She dressed him without a word, and sat him back in his wheelchair. She gathered up his soiled clothes, folding them neatly before handing them to him. His fingers lightly touched hers and he held her gaze. 

"Nora, you give me strength every single day. I wouldn't make it if not for you. You overlook every flaw I have, and still you see me as a man. You never have to apologize to me." He hoped she heard the double meaning in his words: he knew she pulled away so he wouldn't have to. So he could appear to be strong when he was weak. 

And by God if he didn't love her all the more for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a very sexy shower scene, but then I remembered my own reservations after my accident. You don't get over that stuff so quickly. The more pride you have, the harder it is. Be prepared for a great humbling to occur within Maxson in later chapters. 
> 
> Next chapter, first trip to the Institute, and all the drama that brings! I like to mix it up ;)


	17. The Point of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxson receives some bad news and gets assurance from Nora, and Danse tries to warn Nora about certain information coming to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer than usual, but it's all important. Thought about splitting it up, but being inconsistent is akin to breaking the rules and that's how I roll, yo. (Lol) Plus, I'm lazy as fuck. Enjoy :)
> 
> Also, unedited. Pretend for me. Eventually I'll edit everything, I promise.

Danse walked into the sterile room, holding the envelope close to his chest. The scene before him pained him: Arthur Maxson, his best and oldest friend, weak as a kitten and sleeping soundly, and curled up next to him was the only woman Danse had ever loved. He stood silently and watched them breathe in unison for a moment, feeling heartbreak as he realized he was both the betrayed and the betrayer. He never agreed to this, any of it. All he agreed to do was report the relationship between the two lovers to the Council. If he hadn't of brought that damn liquor with him to the Glowing Sea, perhaps he never would have spent the night with Nora, and his feelings would remain secret.

But he had, and they somehow the Council it. The alcohol didn't force him to lie with her. It may have lowered his inhibitions and erased his fear, but in truth the fault was his own. Now the Council was blackmailing him for their own nefarious purpose, a purpose that reeked of conspiracy that ran far deeper than Nora Baker. Who could possibly want her away from Maxson so much that they would take her life? It couldn't be someone within the Brotherhood; no one within hated Maxson so much as to ruin his life. Perhaps politics was involved -- politics that far superceded any loyalty to Elder Maxson. A couple was unlikely, though not unheard of. It was a gamble, and one that was unlikely to pay off.

Danse needed to learn the truth. He wouldn't let anything happen to Nora, or Maxson. He would take his secret to the grave to protect them both, Council be damned. He had been wrong about the nature of Maxson's feelings for Nora. The man loved her, and despite his current condition, he was capable of giving Nora the life that Danse could not. That didn't mean it wouldn't hurt, seeing them together and growing from a couple to a family, but Danse was used to internalizing his pain for the greater good. He would let her go, protect them both, and the Brotherhood. Even if it meant he had to sacrifice himself in the process. 

He cleared his throat and watched Nora nearly hit the ceiling, while a groggy Elder shifted slightly to get her off his ribs. Danse raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise at the affection before him, before saluting his Elder and nodding to Nora briefly.

"Sir, a letter has just arrived for you from the Capital. It's marked as urgent and confidential."

"Thank you Paladin. Leave it on the table, Knight Nora can read it to me in a moment."

"Sir, it's marked confidential. Shouldn't you read this in private?" Danse wondered aloud. He knew how Arthur felt about her, but confidentiality in the Brotherhood upheld a strict rule of discretion.

"Dismissed, Paladin." Arthur grunted with a grimace, sitting up while bracing his left palm against his ribs while Nora assisted him. She gave Danse an apologetic look, but he gritted his teeth saluted his superior and turned on his heel without a word. A moment later he was gone, leaving Nora and Maxson alone.

Maxson listened with his brows furrowed while Nora read the first part of the letter. It was pretty standard, updates on the Citadel and the remnants of the Enclave. It wasn't until a specific mention of a woman that Arthur's eyes went wide and snatched the letter from her.

"Arthur? What is it? What's wrong?" She asked, suspicious of his sudden guilty behaviour. His eyes scanned the page twice more, and he looked up at her with misted eyes.

"It's Amelia. She's dead." He whispered and closed his eyes, the brief letter scrunched in his palm. Nora was confused; she had never heard mention of an Amelia before. She rested her hand on Arthur's shoulder, soothing him with words that range hollow, even to herself.  _It's alright now. Shhhhh, it's ok. Everything will be ok._

Moments went by without either of them saying a word. Nora wondered who this woman was that her lover mourned, and asked him plainly.

"Who is this woman, Arthur?"

He gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand. He could see the concern in her eyes. He was no fool; she had obviously heard rumours of Maxson's flings in years past. He hoped she trusted him enough to listen to the truth, and not get sucked into the politics behind everything.

"A friend. Nora, I need to tell you something." Her eyes snapped to his and she visibly swallowed. It was clear she believed she was another of Maxson's conquests, duped by his charisma and charm. 

He told her of the warning from the Council, the list of twelve women, the last two of which he had refused to even meet. He explained his thought process at the time -- that he considered his duty to be of paramount importance, that tradition weighed heavily on him and played into the tenets of the Brotherhood. He was afraid of his feelings for her, and hers for him. He still was today. Lastly he explained about Amelia: the young woman who had courage to defy her parents and the Council after his urging, who dared to turn hundreds of years of tradition around in a single night. He explained his comraderie with her, how he offered her the advice of pursuing her dream of marrying and settling down with another woman. He explained how her example had led him to the decision to continue his relationship with Nora, despite his fear. When he had said all the words he had kept inside for two months, he looked up at her and expected to see fury there. 

Instead he saw pity. 

"Arthur, why didn't you tell me?" She asked, the fragile trust between them as delicate as glass.

"In truth?" He asked rhetorically, but her head nodded anyway. "I'm a coward, Nora. I would fight a colony of deathclaws before I would face disappointment from you."

"Well, did you?" She asked.

"What?"

"Did you see disappointment at all in these past two months?" His understanding unfolded as a flower to a new dawn. He embraced her warmly, ignoring the pain in his chest. "I've known about these women all along, Arthur. I just didn't know it was the Council who decided it and not you."

Maxson laid his head on her chest and listened to the beating of her heart until he fell asleep, his thoughts of poor Amelia weighing heavily on his heart with guilt.

*           *           *

Nora quietly rapped on Danse's door, the sound of her knuckles on the metal offensive against the quiet darkness. Moments passed before he pulled it open, his chest bare and his power armour absent. He invited her in, surprised to see her, and offered her a seat in the dimly lit room. 

"Knight, what brings you here?" He asked as he poured her two fingers of whiskey. It wasn't as good as the bourbon, but it burned going down and erased the thought from her mind. The last thing she wanted was to remember those few nights with Danse. He refilled her glass and she shot it back. She sat quietly for a moment, refusing to look at him. 

"Listen," he started, trying to catch her eye. "If you're stressed about Maxson, don't worry. He'll make a full recovery, I feel it." He smiled at her, but she didn't see it. Her jaw was set and her eyes distant, looking anywhere but his. His face fell with the seriousness he found on hers, and he waited for her to say something. When moments passed and he thought she wouldn't offer a reason for her visit, her voice cut through the silence: calm, yet acerbic.

"It was you." 

Danse didn't understand, her comment seeming to float in the space between them as he sought the elephant in the room. Her eyes met his, full of rage and betrayal.

"You told the Council." She stated, her teeth grinding together in an effort to not scream and rage against him.

"Told the Council what?" 

"You told me you saw us that night. Maxson told me about the message they sent him. You're the reason they got involved, the reason he was pressured to pick a wife." Her voice remained venomous, but level as she accused him, putting the puzzle pieces together snugly and leaving no room for him to deny her allegations. When he offered no response, she snapped. "You betrayed me, Danse! Because of you, he felt so guilty that he had to jump to our rescue, and I nearly lost him, yet again! He nearly died! Don't look away from me! How could you do this to me, to him? Where's your loyalty? You spat on his name and mine!"

"By telling the truth, soldier? The Council asked me to report if I saw him in a situation that compromised the Brotherhood legacy, and I did that! Don't pretend to be noble with me, Knight! You didn't give a shit about loyalty when you were on your back in the Glowing Sea, did you? Or should I tell our lovestruck Elder how you screamed my name late in the nights while he pined for you, hmm? I'm sure he would love to know that the woman he wants to devote his life to was fucking his best friend!" Danse hissed back, rage boiling in his veins and spilling out his mouth.

They both glared at each other for a moment before Danse spoke.

"If you want a future with him, kids and a house and a goddamned white picket fence, you'll follow my lead and keep your mouth shut! This would destroy him, Nora, and you know it. He's already asked me about it for Christ's sake! I'll protect you as best I can, but you have to trust me. If the Council gets their hands on this information, it's over. For us both. Help him with his recovery, get into the Institute, and the two of you will be honeymooning in the presidential suite. I promise." He calmed, his voice growing as soft as her anger. She knew he was right. There was too much at stake now.

"So you want me to lie to the man I love?" She asked quietly, refusing to look at him. He poured her another drink, and one for himself.

"I want you to be smart. This is your chance to be happy, Nora. He can help you get Shaun back, get your life back. And you can help him. We can't erase what happened, but if you do everything I tell you, we can do the next best thing."

She scoffed. "Live a lie?" She asked cynically. Danse shot back his drink.

"Stay alive." He muttered with a heavy heart. 

*           *            *

The door closed behind her with a metallic  _click_ as Nora left, her perfume still lingering on the air. The man emerged from the shadowy corner behind the set of lockers, his hood covering his face. 

"Well, that went better than planned. ' _Stay alive.'_ Unnecessary, yet effective. Perhaps we should have just blackmailed her from the beginning, then none of this would be happening right now." He mused, his features obscured and his expression lost to shadow. Danse went to flick on the table lamp, but the man caught his hand. "Now, now. Don't be hasty. Have a drink, my friend. Tell me, from whom did the letter come from today?" The man picked at some abandoned Sugar Bombs that Danse had been enjoying moments before Nora's arrival.

"Is that relevant?" Danse snapped, his nerves on edge. The man said nothing. Danse sighed, pulling a shirt on over his dog tags. "Proctor Jessop's wife. Amelia is dead."

"And you know this without reading it?" He asked between mouthfuls, the annoying crunches of the cereal echoing throughout the small room.

"Her flight crew revealed it to me when they arrived."

"Hmm. This may work out perfectly."

"And how's that exactly? Maxson is going to propose marriage to her before her trip to the Institute. The relay is nearly complete, I'm told. In a couple of days, she is going to be traveling to the enemy, and Maxson is going to be making plans for his wedding."

"Well, it just so happens that Amelia is going to write a letter that Knight Nora will find on her return. She never did confess her feelings to our dear Elder." He waved dramatically, gesturing for Danse to applaud, and when he didnt, the man let out an exasperated huff.

"Amelia's dead." Danse reminded him.

"And she never had feelings for him either, did she? But that won't matter. The seed of doubt has been planted, and in that you played your part perfectly."

"Wait, you knew this would happen -- that I would warn her?" Danse asked in disbelief.

"Of course! Just like I know what will happen after her little trip to the Institute." 

"Oh really, and what will that be?" Danse asked sarcastically, not believing a word the man said.

"You're going to be very popular, very fast. Pack your bags and complete your unfinished tasks, Paladin. I'm afraid that is the point of no return."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos if you caught a bit of foreshadowing. ;)
> 
> Is Danse really evil, or is he simply willing to protect Nora from the real powers that be? Stay tuned to find out!


	18. Marry Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur makes a heartfelt proposal after a romantic encounter, but Nora reveals a secret that may throw a wrench in his plans.

"You know I can't stay, Arthur. You're nearly recovered, and I've been on this ship for nearly four months. I have to check in with my friends, and the relay has been ready for weeks. We can't put it off any longer." 

Maxson knew Nora was right, their main priority should be the Institute's destruction, but after spending so much time with her as she nursed him back to health, he couldn't help feeling a bit betrayed by her inevitable departure. With her patient guidance, Maxson regained his strength and was able to walk again, albeit with a cane. When he was frustrated with how weak he thought it made him seem, he tossed it aside. Needless to say, he took a nasty tumble and hit his head, landing him back in sick bay with an angry Nora and scolding Cade. When he explained his thoughts to Nora, as always, she understood. A week later, she presented him with a new cane, made for him by the finest weapon smith in the Commonwealth. It's entirety was shaped out of pressure treated oak, carved with intricate battle scenes and died a deep black to match his flattering fatigues. The wood itself was smoothly sanded and finished with an oiled sheen. It was an aid he could be proud of, designed more for style than functionality, but useful. She put so much thought, and undoubtedly caps, into the gift, he felt a special kind of acceptance. She loved him -- that much was clear to him, despite the monstrosity he appeared to be. 

"Please, Nora. One more day. That's all I ask." He pleaded, wrapping his arms around her waist as she attempted to fill her pack. He kissed the back of her neck and she let out a girlish giggle in return, turning into him with a gleaming smile.

"Alright, if it means that much to you. Twenty-four hours. And after that, you wouldn't be able to keep me if you ordered me to stay." She warned, half serious. He knew she needed to find her son, he wouldn't order her to compromise that. He kissed the sensitive spot on her neck until she was weak in the knees, his beard sensual against her sensitive skin.

"My hope is I won't have to order you." He said in seriousness, though his eyes gleamed with mischief. He stepped back against the door to his quarters and locked it, raising an eyebrow.

His arms were on her in an instant, his fingers threading through her hair. His mouth was hot and sweet, tasting of Nuka cola and cigarettes. His lips feverishly kissed her, as if willing her to never leave his side. She responded with as much passion as her heart contained for him, this god of a man she had found in a world that was never meant to be hers. His fingers left her golden locks and traveled to the collar of her Brotherhood fatigues, his fingers slipping just under the seam he found there and pausing, waiting for her consent. She broke away and looked at him, her honey coloured eyes on his icy blue, nodding once before unzipping the front of her suit down to her navel.

Both his hands gentle grazed the zipper edges, slowly folding them back and away from her flesh, moving them down her arms and revealing the ivory skin underneath. He had seen her naked before, though not in the light of a lone lantern as it flickered off her curves. He kissed her collar bone and throat, slowly tonguing the flesh his mouth found there. He made his way down her chest, paying close attention to each rosy mound, moulding each with his palms and nipping gently before suckling on the nipple, turning pain into pleasure. When he reached her navel, he slid the uniform off her hips, and the hush of leather hitting steel echoed in the room as it hit the floor, and he kneeled before her. He grazed his fingertips over the soft patch of curls he found between her legs and her sharp intake of breath urged him closer as he buried his face within. In barely a moment, he had her panting as her fingers grasped at his hair, his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub he found there. When he felt her knees begin to tremble, he picked her up and carried her to his bed. He removed her shoes quickly and studied her in the dim light. She was beautiful. Not even Sara Lyons would have compared. Nora's body held only the scars from her last battle, scars he wanted to trace with his tongue, kissing them until they vanished. He would carry every scar for this woman, make her every burden his own.

He brought his warm mouth back between her thighs, tasting and tickling her until she trembled violently and begged him to stop. Only when she moaned his name did he heed her pleas; shedding his own fatigues and coming to rest above her. He kissed her deeply, letting her taste and feel his need of her, until she grabbed his hips and urged him on. He was still apprehensive, but it barely showed as he entered her. She let out a loud gasp and whispered his name again; it was as though she threw kerosene on a bonfire. There was time for gentleness later. Now he needed to give her something to remember, a reason to return. His thrusts became needy, filling her completely and stretching her even still. He watched her the entire time, each thrust brought a smile to her face, each groan of pleasure brought a smile to his. He felt her walls tighten around him as she came undone, her fingernails clawing at the skin of his back and her legs were wrapped around him and shaking wildly. When he was sure she was finished, her pants and cries becoming slow breaths and quiet moans, he picked up his pace, setting a faster rhythm to their horizontal dance. He thrust harder and faster, feeling himself hitting secret walls within her as he gritted his teeth and pressed on. Her hips bucked against him, urging him to completion, and he felt himself swell within her. His seed spilled into her fast and strong as he rode out the remains of his orgasm.

Never before had he felt so loved, so complete, so whole, as he did in that moment, laying across her slick skin and feeling his heart race. She played with his hair absently, and neither of them spoke for a few minutes. There was job need for words in those moments, no need to do anything other than savor in the company of one another. Maxson traced lazy circles along the curve of her hip, and she wondered what thoughts entered his mind at such a time to make him so distant. She remained silent as she lay beside him, their legs still entwined, his head resting against her chest.

"Marry me," he said softly, so softly she nearly didn't hear him. She wasn't sure she heard him correctly at all in fact, and stared at him in bewilderment before he cleared his throat. "Marry me, Nora," he repeated. He reached over to his nightstand and opened the drawer before facing her again and presenting her with a single gold band. "It was my mother's." Engagement rings had long become a thing of the past, but wedding bands were still widely used, though she had never seen a gold one in this hell. She felt like she was floating, staring at him with her mouth hanging open as she tried to gather her thoughts. Maxson frowned, pulling away from her a bit, his eyes questioning and afraid.

"I..." She began, searching his face for an answer to her unspoken question, fear in her own eyes and shining brighter than his. "I need to tell you something, Arthur." His face fell at her words, and he sat up on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. He ran his hands through this hair, and rested his elbows on his knees, steadying himself with a deep breath. She suddenly felt her own nakedness, and pulled the discarded sheets around herself. 

"About you and Danse?" He asked, his body tensing. He put his head in his hands, closing his eyes and awaiting the blow. She wanted to reach out to him, assure him and comfort him, but was afraid of his reaction. 

"I... when we left for the Glowing Sea, I was so hurt, so angry. You broke my heart Arthur. We were drinking. I was lonely, and he was there. I wanted to hurt you, Arthur. I wanted you to feel as heartbroken as I did. I'm not proud of any of it," she confessed, tears spilling down her cheeks onto the white linens. He was silent for a moment while her body shook with quiet sobs. He swiped at his own angry tears, a bitter laugh bubbling in the back of his throat.

"No," he scoffed. "I don't suppose you are." His back straightened once more, but he wouldn't look at her. "Well then. Your dastardly plan succeeded. I guess we're even now."

"Arthur, I'm sorry. I wish none of that had happened, that I could take it all back. I love you, you know that. Please forgive me," She begged. His head snapped around to look at her, his eyes filled with rage and anguish. His defeated frame did not move, however, but his glare was enough to cause her to fear the man she so loved.

"You knowingly deceived me. How can I trust you?" He hissed, with less venom than he intended. His heart felt weak, his soul tired. He wanted to be angry with her, but found he couldn't be. All of this was his fault, he knew it the day Amelia spoke to him and urged him to reconsider his relationship with Nora. He had done so, and now he was in the very situation he had been afraid of. His heart was caged, his love held prisoner.

"I can't tell you to trust me, Arthur. I can only tell you what I feel for you I've never felt for anyone. Not my late husband, and certainly not Danse. You are what grounds me in this world, my hope in this dismal place. Before you, it felt like I was falling through darkness, all the time. I can't erase what I've done, I'm not asking you to forget it, but I am sorry. I'm asking you to understand that I'm in love with you. I would die for you. Everything that happened with Danse, that was the past. You're what I want for my future. I'm begging you, Arthur. Please, give me a chance to prove it. That's all I can ask for. Let me earn your forgiveness." 

He wouldn't look at her, but she saw the tears falling from his eyes. She quietly gathered her clothing and dressed while watching him solemnly. Perhaps Danse had been right: perhaps confessing to Arthur was a mistake. But she knew if she had lived a lie, marrying him and not revealing what she had done, she would never forgive herself. She knew from experience the sort of pain that caused. She reached for the door handle, fully clothed and hair a mess, before she heard his voice trembling with agony.

"I need time, Nora. I forgive you -- I see my own fault in your actions. But I need time to think." 

She nodded, though he did not see her, and slipped out the door without a sound except the metallic click of the latch behind her. It was the sound of loss, of grief, of regret.

When Maxson looked over, the gold band was gleaming on his pillow, her scent clinging to it still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We know our love sick puppy is too into Nora to abandon her -- have faith loyal readers! This is all part of Arthur's humbling.


	19. Promise Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxson realizes what's important to him, and goes after it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No angst this chapter! Enjoy! 
> 
> (Still not editing. My highschool English teacher would be horrified, but I'm pretty sure she's dead, so.)

He said he needed time to think, and there he sat, shit faced and depressed, staring at the four steel walls of his quarters. The hours ticked by as images of Nora flooded is thoughts. He tried in vain to drown them in whiskey, their searing burn on the forefront of his thoughts, even as he whipped the empty bottle at the wall, shattering it into a thousand shards of misery.

The woman he loved. His best friend.

He imagined them laughing at him, though he knew it was unlikely, their heads titled back and faces flushed as they made love well into the night. Surrounded by dead ghouls. The thought made him shudder. He didn't want to think of her legs wrapped around Danse's waist, her eyes heavy-lidded and lustful as he plowed her. He didn't want to picture her face twisted with climax close at hand, her hair a tousled mess as she rode him.

He would kill him. He asked Danse directly, and the man had lied to him. Even  _if_ Danse had lied with good intentions, perhaps out of guilt and a obligation to shield him from the painful truth, Danse still lied to him. Arthur had stormed into battle, faced off against a monster of an enemy, nearly killing himself in the process to save them both, and he had _lied_. Danse he could lock up and throw away the key for insubordination, but not Nora.

He still loved her, damn her to hell, but he did. 

She always understood him, as though she could read his very thoughts. She never flinched away from his harsh demeanor, in fact she met him in stride. And when he was too stubborn to admit weakness, there she was, making him strong. He couldn't deny that he felt betrayed by her omission, but she had confessed, despite the consequences she knew he could offer. She was either truly in love with him, or insane.

Maxson sighed and rolled over onto his side, draping his arm over his face as he tried to shut out the world around him. He still held the gold band in his palm, it's significance weighing on him heavily. She was the one who would do it justice, the only one able to honor his mother's memory. And yet she was the one who betrayed him. He knew he had betrayed her too, by being so harsh with her before she departed for the Glowing Sea, for pushing her into Danse's arms. He had agreed to the formal meeting of the 12 suitors with the initial intention of choosing one. He had been just as guilty as she in trying to move on from this all-consuming flame of passion. The only difference, he supposed, was he had been bullied into abstaining from intimacy, whereas she had not. He had denied it to her, and had expected her to wait until he came around. He knew this was unworthy of him, and that he should hold himself to the same standards as he did her, but selfishness was shining beneath the surface of his thoughts. 

_She is mine._

By the time he realized he had forgiven her, truly forgiven her as she had for him so long ago, dawn had crept in on the deck of the Prydwyn. His alarm buzzed annoyingly beside him, ushering him into the new day. He leapt out of his bed, throwing aside the sheets that hours ago she had wrapped around her. He grabbed his jacket to ward of the early morning chill and raced down to the flight deck just in time to see her vertibird pull away. His heart sank into his stomach. 

She promised him twenty-four hours.

*           *           *

Nora sat in silence during her flight, refusing to let the crew see her cry. She would pop in for a quick visit in Sanctuary to explain things to her friends. It had been so long since she had seen them; since she laughed with MacCready or had a gossip session with Piper. She missed Codsworth's fussing, and Hancock's suave humour, Deacon's white lies and even Strong's gruff ignorance. Two hundred years ago, she didn't think she would have fallen into a group of ragtag misfits, but as they were each reflections of herself, she felt at home with them. They were her family now. It was looking like they were the only family she would ever have.

MacCready was the first to greet her, as usual. His grin was from ear to ear as he embraced her; the familiarity of the gesture put her at ease.

"Where have you been hiding, boss?" He asked her, looking around for Danse but finding her alone. "You've been gone for months. If it weren't for Deacon's intel, we'd have thought you were dead."

"Yeah, I had a bit of a rough time in the Glowing Sea, Mac. Nothing ever goes according to plan."

"Yeah, you don't have to tell me that. When it rains it pours," he smirked. The settlers passed, going about their business as the whirring on the vertibird announced its departure.

"How have things been here?" Nora asked him, looking around at all the new structures that had been built. The new defenses had been put up in her absence to her pleasant surprise, three new homes had been built, and four new traders were peddling their wares.

"Ah, you know. Strong is complaining he has no one to eat, Cait and Piper hooked up, Preston is delivering baby puppies or something, and Deacon is spreading rumours of you and the big cheese up on Cloud Steel." Nora's head snapped around as if her neck was elastic, eyes as hard as stone boring into his soul.

"What did you just say?" She asked him, each word sharper than the last.

"Which part? How my heart is broken because the woman to whom I've sworn my undying love is in love with someone else, that my pride is wounded because that someone else is another woman, the fact that Strong is seriously considering _eating_ one of us, or Deacon is a two-faced liar who is spreading rumours of you shacking up with his sworn enemy?"

"Mac, I have to talk to you about all this, and I will, I just need some time to settle in, alright? I don't have much time either, I'm scheduled to travel to the Institute tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? What the hell, boss! That doesn't exactly give us a whole lot of time to prepare, and I --" MacCready was silenced by the roar of vertibird blades as another craft landed dead in the centre of Sanctuary. He raised an eyebrow, his question left unasked.

"Yeah, we'll talk later, boss. I suddenly have something important to do.... over there...." MacCready smirked, his eyebrow still cocked and headed off towards the direction of her house to wait for her.

Nora remained where she was, her flaxen hair whipping furiously across her face. She knew only one person who would follow her into Sanctuary, wasting resources on another bird so soon after hers departed the Prydwyn. Her heart began to race as she stood in place, dreading another argument where she would have to face her shameful actions. She was certain he had said more than enough to make her feel guilty, the only thing left being her dismissal from the order and his life.

Maxson jumped down clumsily from the black steel aircraft, rising to his full height despite his obvious discomfort. She never noticed how tall he was before, how his battle coat made him look that much more intimidating, or how serious he looked when he wasn't looking directly at her. She longed to run to him, to wrap him in an embrace and cry into his chest, but fear paralyzed her in place. She could only watch as he stepped closer to her. With each step that he took, a memory accosted her mind: Maxson cracking a smile when she stuck her tongue out at Cade, him taking his first steps in recovery, the spark in his eyes when he buried his face between her thighs. Her eyes welled with tears until he stood inches from her, looking down on her gently, saying nothing. He finally reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching, almost in a smile. The settlers kept back a respectful distance, but looked on in curiosity. Danse watched, his arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head angrily before storming back into the house.

Nora felt her mouth go dry as cotton, and her palms began to sweat. She was unsure what to say to him now. She would never forgive herself for hurting him the way she did; the way his eyes had glazed over in anger, she was sure he hated her, despite telling her that he forgave her.

"You promised me," he whispered. He breathed deep and swallowed deeper. "You promised me twenty-four hours." 

Nora didn't know what to say. She watched Arthur, her eyes not trusting what she was seeing, her eyes not believing what they were hearing. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she didn't feel them. Everything was surreal, as if she was dreaming without ever falling asleep. Or if she had never woken at all. Maxson reached up and gently brushed away her tears, cupping her face with his palms. She nuzzled into their warmth absently, forgetting the troubles she had caused, and the heartbreak she felt, for a moment. She closed her eyes and savored his breath against her brow, the closest feeling she had to home.

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" He asked. She nodded dreamily, leading him to one of the newly constructed bunkhouses. She gestured to the small table and chairs, offering him a seat. Maxson sat, and Nora took her place across from him. He reached for her hands and was silent a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. When finally he spoke, he wouldn't look at her, as if he was afraid of what he would see in her eyes.

"I sat up all night, thinking. I'm not a perfect man, Nora. I've done things, said things, that make me cringe to this day. I'm not a great man, not even a good man. I'm not particularly sensitive, I don't know what the right things are to say, and I'm not pretty to look at."

"Arthur--," she started, but he held a hand up to silence her.

"I've always been more of a fighter than a lover. I have no patience, and I'm a jealous man. I'm selfish and I can be cruel. I know all these things. I'm used to submission, reverence, respect. I'm not used to being emotional, or soft, or allowing myself to be cared for. To be loved. But here you are, Nora, loving me. Without ever asking for anything in return but the same from me. You've already proven your devotion to me, with every moment you spent with me instead of being out there looking for your son.

"I need you to promise me that there is nothing between you and Danse now. That I have nothing to worry about. I want you to be my wife, Nora Baker. I don't care about the past. I pictured about a life without you, and I don't like what I saw there. You make me more, better, somehow. And I don't want to go back to being the man I was before I knew you. So swear to me, swear that you feel nothing for Danse. Swear that you can be satisfied with me just as I am." His eyes begged her for honesty, to tell him what he needed to hear. 

"I swear to you, Arthur, on everything that matters." He withdrew his hands from hers, and she saw the small gold band he laid in her palm.

"Then marry me, Nora. Before we wage a war that might kill us both."

Nora could only nod as she leapt from her chair and into his lap, crashing her lips onto his.


	20. Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxson is looking for Danse, but Danse is looking for allies -- allies he needs to save Nora from an unseen enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Unedited (as usual).

"We have a problem Paladin," the shadow man said once Danse was closing the door to his temporary home in sanctuary. The lights were out, of course they were, because that was the only time the shivering mole rat would make an appearance.

"And what exactly would _your_ problem be?" Danse asked sarcastically. 

"My source is very angry. Nora has made a full confession to her treason, and implicated yourself, of course."

"Well, one less thing to hide," Danse chirped as he headed towards the liquor cabinet, opening it and removing a bottle of scotch. _Prewar. Nice,_ he thought.

"I don't think you understand. This goes far deeper than you being able to keep your hands off your best friend's girl. My source has explicit reasons for wanting the two of them apart, and not solely for the purpose of protecting the Maxson legacy, in fact that was the least of his concerns. If you don't split them up, and soon, her life is in danger. You may not care about her enough to chase after her, but surely you care about her life enough to want to do all you can to protect it."

"If you care all that much, go talk to Maxson. I'm done playing your game. I gave you intel and you've done nothing for me but blackmail me and threaten the woman I loved. You spied, lied, betrayed, and murdered to get what you wanted. I don't have to like it, but Nora and Maxson belong together. He's going to marry her when she returns from her recon mission, and there's nothing you can do to stop it, short of killing one of them. You'll never even get close."

"Sweet Paladin. You wound me! Here I thought we were getting along so well, truly on the right path for saving the Commonwealth and the Maxson line. Yet here you are, challenging me to murder a renowned member of the Brotherhood of Steel, as if I had nothing better to do than shoot fish in a barrel.

"Let's get something straight, you and I. The only reason you are still alive is because you are useful to me. I don't like you, Paladin. Your methods are primitive and too by the book to get a job actually accomplished. You've given me intel, and now I have intel for you. But, I have to know how badly you want it. Are you willing to reveal one more vital piece of information to me in exchange for information that is necessary to save a life?"

"What intel?" Danse asked cynically.

"Well, that's not how the game is played, now is it? First you tell me if you'll help me, then I'll tell you how to save a life, we shake hands and play a few rounds of dice and go on our merry way."

"Whose life?"

"A life is a life, dear man! Is all life not sacred? Is that not why the Brotherhood works so hard, to preserve human life and liberty? I'm offering you the chance for both, and all I want is another piece of information. Just a tidbit, really. You won't even have to go far out of your way to get it."

"I need to know who and what is involved or you get nothing."

The man let out an annoyed huff of protest, but drummed his fingers against the scotch bottle and took a long drink straight from the bottle.

"Well, to start with, some very valuable information will come to light and start a huge rift within the ranks. I will make you privy to this information. Second, there will be an attempt on Knight Nora's life in the days following her return from the Institute. I will give you the when and where so that you can lead an assault and free her. Third, there is a very specific page in Maxson's records that has been missing from all but his personal file. We have been unable to locate this copy, and just need to know of its whereabouts. Very simple. The whereabouts of one document for lifesaving information on your lover and political intrigue. What do you say? You loved her enough to die for her before, but do you love her enough to save her now?" 

"Get out."

"Think about it, Danse. Don't dismiss this so easily, because I assure you, she will die. Slowly." The man warned as he stood and faced away, his back hunched in an unusual way. 

"Fucking try it. She'll be under watch from the moment she arrives," Danse growled. The man let out a cruel laugh, throwing his head back and revealing an angry red scar running across his throat.

"You know, maybe I was wrong about you. I like you. You're clever. Though, not quite clever enough. You see, I never said she had that long. You just have that long to get the information to us before she dies."

In contrast to how the man appeared, silently and mysteriously, shadow man vanished in a burst of blue light, leaving behind the smell of ozone and a feeling of dread.

Up to that point, Danse hadn't realized he was working for his enemy. An enemy he couldn't defeat, not when he no longer had allies.

*           *            *

"Where the fuck is he?" Arthur roared, his face scarlet as he stormed the corridors and upended furniture in a rage. Initiates scattered when he was within earshot, making themselves an unlikely target for his wrath. No one had seen him since the early morning hours after Maxson's hurried journey to Sanctuary. Since paladins were not obligated to report to anyone other than Kells and Maxson himself, Kells was the first person Maxson had raged at. Kells hadn't heard from Paladin Danse since the man left for Sanctuary a week before, stating he had learned of a potential hotspot for the Railroad from a new source. Of course Kells had granted him leave to root out this new hot spot and assemble a team in Nora's absence, which was considered standard procedure, but Maxson was furious anyway.

"I want him found and detained Knight-Captain. No one is to speak to him until I do, and I do mean not one fucking word. I want him found immediately, send recon teams four, eight, and twelve. If he is found hiding amongst our allies, remind them our alliance does not afford refuge to criminals, and neither will they if they wish an alliance to continue."

"Sir, if he is found within Sanctuary? Do we wage war against a faction whose leader is away on a Brotherhood mission?" Kells asked, incredulous towards Maxson's sudden aggression. Maxson frowned at that and thought for a moment, wondering what Nora would do.

"No, but remind the settlers that if they willfully and knowingly give refuge to a Brotherhood soldier, they are obligated to report it, and if not, it is considered subterfuge and thus an act of war. If they do not comply, burn every crop and kill the livestock, but leave the people unharmed. Knight Nora can deal with the rest."

He couldn't pretend to know what Nora would do, so he did the best he could and improvised. He would do what Maxson-- the new Maxson-- would do: inflict pain, show mercy.

 


	21. Reacquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora finds Shaun, and the Source finds her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't shit your pants at the drama in this chapter. Please. Unedited, of course, but eventually, you know...

Nora had made it this far to find the boy she had thought was her son was a synthetic human, while its creator, her son himself. And her son was a boy no longer. She had been duped from the start. Her son, her baby, was now a sixty year old psychopath. He was so deranged that he believed he was actually helping the human race by replacing them with machines. Her heart ached for what he had become, and she wondered what Nate would think about this -- about any of it. Here she sat next to Shaun while he explained his dream for the Institute, for his desire for her to overtake it, while she downloaded encrypted data to help the Brotherhood. It wasn't in her to pretend to be something she was not. She preferred her enemies know her face and take it to their graves, rather than stabbing them in the back. 

She would do this for the Brotherhood, for Maxson. For all Danse talked about being the first to kick open the gates of hell, here she sat, and she had leisurely strolled in. But could she actually destroy her son, his dreams, his vision? She knew she had to; she hated everything he had become.

And still she sat here, and smiled at him lovingly, seeing her late husband's eyes in her child's aged face.

"Why did you release me from that pod Shaun?" She asked, cutting him off as he spoke about synth production on a global scale. 

"Hmm. I guess I wanted to see what would happen, Mother. I was curious, you could say."

"Do you know what they did? How these people stole you from your father's arms and murdered him in cold blood?"

Shaun held her gaze a moment, unflinching at her words, though she wasn't sure she expected anything else. They stole her baby, brainwashed him. Robbed him of his family, his childhood, his life. She knew what she had to do in that moment, but she wasn't sure she had the strength to do it.

"Yes, that was...unfortunate." Shaun agreed, his face as calm as still water as he eyed her suspiciously. He had asked her then to take over as director of the Institute, explaining that he never wished this pain on her but he admired her courage and the strength of her convictions. As such, she would be a perfect replacement. She had been to the surface, understood how it worked, and could convince the world above of the Institute's good intentions. Nora smiled all the while, willing the hard drive to hurry up and complete it's task. Just as it finished,  Shaun announced that he would like to show her around before she made a decision.

He personally gave her a tour. Nora was genuinely impressed; the technology here would end numerous hardships on the surface, and the science was state of the art. Shaun introduced her to a variety of people, some scientists and labormen, some synths. Everyone that passed addressed him as Father, and Nora realized the implications of the title. They worshipped him. They saw him as the founder of their new world order, and loved him for it. Nora saw it all for what it really was, and found herself disgusted.

"Oh, Mother. There is one person you really must meet before you return to the surface. I'm sure the two of you will have much in common, and have many things to talk about. Please, right this way." He ushered her through a set of doors leading to a long corridor, and smiled at her sadly before the doors slammed shut. She was trapped. The intercom buzzed to her right, and Nora saw Shaun's face on the video feed there. His features were usually set in a stony stoicism, rarely revealing a hint of emotion, but now they were filled with regret.

"I'm sorry, Mother. While it's true I wished for you to join us, other arrangements have been made. Goodbye."

With that the monitor switched off, leaving her in the flickering hallway filled with locked doors. All but one. She opened it and ventured inside, keeping her weapon close and her intuition closer. She searched the dark room for any ray of hope, some way for her to escape and find her way back to Maxson. All she found were overturned chairs and bolted down counters. There was not even a hint of a smell or a sound to give away where she was. 

Suddenly, bright light flashed all around her, blinding her after such darkness. The loud _bang_  of a circuit breaker startled her and sent her flying into the wall. The wind was briefly knocked out of her, but soon the air began to return along with her vision.

"Hello, Nora. It's good to see you," a familiar voice said. Her vision adjusted and all the air her lungs worked so hard to gasp for rushed out in a quiet  _whoosh_.

"Nate," she whispered, feeling the cold of the steel behind her, but still believing herself to be in a dream. 


	22. Vengeance Delayed is Vengeance Denied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxson finds Danse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't claim to be an expert on male aggression, but I imagine it goes something like this:  
> RAWR I HATE YOU  
> OH YEAH I HATE YOU MORE  
> NUH UH, YOU!  
> NO, YOU!  
> ***bang, thwack, pow*****  
> Winner eats the last cookie.

"Elder Maxson, sir!" The lieutenant saluted, snapping to attention in the doorway leafing to the observation deck. Maxson had been deep in conversation with Proctor Quinlan over his upcoming nuptials, but Quinlan proved to be as disappointed as Knight Captain Cade. Both men were almost obnoxiously reluctant to assist with any aspect of the wedding -- from drafting marriage contracts to alerting the council. Maxson nearly growled in frustration, his nerves frayed from repeatedly engaging in arguments he could not win. He would have their cooperation, one way or the other, but was giving both men the courtesy of being asked, rather than ordered.

The young lieutenant was nearly quivering with excitement, fidgeting as he fought the urge to bounce out of his boots. The immaturity the Elder saw in the scribe deepened his scowl; the Brotherhood was the epitome of professionalism. It was not supposed to be a daycare centre.

"Speak," he ordered gruffly. Quinlan was offended at being passed over so quickly for a boy barely out of his mother's skirts, but remained where he was lest he spark more of the Elder's ire.

"You asked to be alerted as soon as Paladin Danse was found, sir. He is in lockup, in cell nineteen. What are your orders, sir?"

Maxson went stiff as a board, staring out of the observation window. He knew it was only a matter of time before Danse was found, but still had no idea what to say to his one time friend.

"Have him under guard. No unnecessary interactions, I will be down shortly." He dismissed the young man who again snapped a formal salute and turned on his heel to leave. Maxson didn't realize that the documents in his hand were now a crumpled mess, or that Quinlan was watching him intently.

"With all due respect, sir, it may be wise to refrain from killing him," Quinlan chirped, not unkindly.

"Duly noted, Proctor. If you will excuse me, there is a matter I must attend to."

Maxson casually strolled the halls and staircases, anticipating the satisfaction of beating Danse to a pulp. He stopped just short of the solid steel door, gesturing for the guards to unlock it without so much as a word. The key turned in the lock, sounding a metallic click, and the door slid open, revealing a hunched and desperate looking Paladin, sitting against the wall with his arms on his knees and his his back, eyes closed.

"Leave us. Do not open this door unless I specifically order it. No one else." The men nodded, and Maxson stepped into the cell. 

The bright light flickered, leaving the space mostly in darkness but allowing for brief flashes of light. It allowed for an eerie feeling of despair, Maxson noted. There was naught but a small faucet, a bucket, and a drain in the floor. Maxson shivered. Not a friendly place to be. When Nora found out...

"Arthur? Look, I understand what you're thin--"

"On your feet, soldier. Now." Maxson commanded. Danse hesitated for only a moment, and obeyed. He stood awkwardly in front of Maxson, hands behind his back and eyes facing forward as his training dictacted. Maxson circled around Danse several times, assessing each breath the man took while he awaited punishment. Danse tried to breathe steadily, forcing each breath in to remain for exactly two heartbeats before exhaling. It didnt b help that his heart was racing, so his breaths were faster than usual, laced with anxiety and riddled with something that bordered on contempt.

"You have brought scandal to the Brotherhood by seducing one who has been already won, though was unclaimed, and subsequently denied your actions. The female in question, none other than the woman I am currently, and was at the time courting, has confessed. In courtesy for the countless years of friendship you have shown me, I have decided to forgo trial to avoid publicly humiliating you, as you did me. I will give you one final chance to confess to your transgressions against Brotherhood law, and your slight against me. Tell me the truth, Richard."

"Arthur, please. It's true, alright? It was unbecoming of me -- cracking under the pressure of my baser urges. I swear to you, I am no threat to you. I know I have no rights to Nora-"

"Knight Nora, " Maxson corrected.

"I have no rights to Knight Nora. She has made clear her intentions, and though I wish it weren't so, I respect that she has chosen you." Danse pleaded his friend to believe him.

"Be that as it may, Paladin, you have disrespected me by laying your hands on that which you knew was mine."

"With all due respect, sir, you had claimed no such thing. I had no idea you had feelings for her; you didn't make anything known. And I did not seduce her, she came to me. I do not chase fellow Brotherhood soldiers, but she was a willing participant, I assure you."

Maxson stopped in front of Danse, his eyes cold, jaw clenched, and fists balled at his side. 

"Elder Maxson, sir, you need to know that she's in danger right this very moment." Danse said.

"Of course she is, she is inside the most dangerous place in the Commonwealth. Dangerous because we know nothing about it. She is scheduled to return tomorrow, and there is nothing we can do until then to assure her safety. Do not think that I understand none of the risks she is undertaking, Paladin," Arthur growled between his teeth.

"Yes sir, but there is more. Her trip has been a setup, they knew she was coming, and I received word anonymous that her life is in danger. Please sir, listen to me. She is being held above ground, and she will not make it until tomorrow if we do not act immediately. I will accept your punishment, but I beg you, listen to me."

"You've done nothing but lie to me since the Glowing Sea. Perhaps even before that. Why would I believe you now?" Maxson barked, inches from Danse's face.

"Because sir, I know that her life is not worth risking while you wait to see if I'm wrong. We need to mount this rescue mission and extract her from our enemies, or she will die. Please, they are monitoring the area, and are willing to negotiate in exchange for her life. If we don't show, or worse, if we force an assault, she will be executed before parlay. Our only option is to attend, only the two of us. That was the only option they afforded."

 Maxson faced away from Danse, considering the implications of his words. If Danse was telling the truth, Nora's life was in danger. He couldn't stand back and allow anything to happen to her. Her life meant more to him than his own, more than the Brotherhood, more than this entire radiation-soaked world. He couldn't imagine waking up to news of her death, knowing he was responsible, and having to live with that the rest of his days.

If Danse was lying, and this was a setup, Maxson was obviously walking into a death trap. He would have no backup to help him, and his arm wasn't strong enough yet to fire off more than a few rounds. He would gladly give his life for Nora's, but wasn't naive enough to think they would spare her after his death. He needed assurance, but right now, all he had was Danse's word.

"Arthur, we're the only hope she has. Please, don't do this for me, do it for her. We owe her that much. If this is the last thing I can do for you both, let me help you."

Maxson turned his head, looking over his shoulder at Danse. He hated him, he felt it in his gut and with every bone and drop of blood in his body. His chest grew tight, thinking of Nora tied up somewhere with a bag over her head. His blood ran cold, and not even the heat of his rage was enough to warm the icy revenge that wanted to leap out and devour his former friend.

Without hesitation, he whipped around and punched Danse in the face, breaking his nose and swelling his eye. The momentum of his powerful swing sent Danse sprawling backwards, and he awkwardly landed on his shoulder.

Damn, that felt liberating, better than the first rush of jet he ever had at seventeen.

"I find your sudden loyalty sickening, Paladin. You were my friend once, but now I find myself wondering if a knife in the back is really better than a bullet to the chest. I will retrieve Nora alone, and deal with you upon my return," he turned and ordered the guards to open the door. Before he exited, he finally turned and looked Danse square in his now blackening eye from his perch on the cold floor. "Just know, if not for our friendship, you would be thrown from the foredeck. This grand gesture is the last of my available goodwill. This concludes any affection I once held for you, _brother_."

With that, the door slid shit behind Elder Arthur Maxson, once again leaving Danse to reflect in darkness as Maxson's black fatigues blurred down the corridor to the flight deck.


	23. Unity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora hears Nate's idealistic, but naive explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really tired and really groggy from medication, so this chapter may be weird and incoherent and just generally crap.
> 
> I may go back and rewrite it tomorrow, but I figured I'd give you all a chance to read it anyway.

"How is this possible?" Nora asked in disbelief, gently touching Nate's face with timid fingers, doubting what her instinct told her: Nate was, in fact, alive.

"Nora, the Institute is capable of many wonderful things, it's because of them that I'm here today," he said, smiling warmly.

"Last I checked, Lazarus was a one time thing, Nate. How are you here?" She asked again, her voice quivering with the fear that Nate was somehow a phantom of her imagination, yet wishing it were so at the same time.

"I was awakened from the Cryopod two years before you were."

"I saw you die."

He shook his head, turning to inspect a seemingly very interesting, paint chipped wall behind him.

"You saw what we wanted you to see. I regret it -- that you were put through that, Nora. We thought it best for you to experience the devastation on the surface first hand, so that you would make your way here and see exactly how our technology can change our dying world. Shaun needed you to come here on your own accord, without persuasion. Unfortunately, there was more at play than just your need for family, for justice."

"But why? Why drive me nearly insane with grief? I thought you were dead! I mourned you Nate, I sat outside your tomb of ice and I wept for you! Why would you allow me to think that? Why didn't you wake me as soon as you were released?" She demanded, tears rolling down her face.

"I tried, Nora. Truly I did. I made the same journey you did, trying to avenge my family. Shaun really was taken as an infant, but I have no memory of it. I couldn't open your pod, and I had no idea where to start looking for Shaun. I did some research, just as you did and made my way here. Shaun has a plan for us, and I couldn't convince him to release you either until it was in motion. And now that his plan is finally coming to fruition, he has accepted me into the fold to be part of it.

"But why didn't he wake me with you? Why did he choose you to share this with, but not me?" She muttered bitterly, and Nate turned back to face her.

"Babe, listen to me. Shaun needed my military experience, this is not about personal preference. You were a housewife before the war, not a tactician. You had another role to fill, and you did. Don't you see? Shaun is old now, he needs us to take over his legacy and finalize his plans for the Commonwealth. And I need you, I can't do this without you." Nate looked into her eyes, and she didn't like what she saw there: a lust for power that she had seen in the worst of her criminal clients. Mafia bosses, drug lords, pimps. She never thought she would see this in him, a man who once shared her bed, and had her heart.

"Why did I see you die? This can't be real, this can't be happening..." She trailed off, pinching the bridge of her nose and rocking on the balls on her feet. Nate's face fell, his calm expression growing impatient.

"It's almost insulting that you don't understand anything about this place, Nora. They make artificial humans here, made possible with human DNA. Essentially, programmable clones. Shaun made a duplicate of me - the thing actually thought it was me, it was remarkable, really. It was programmed to behave as I would have, had I been awake when Shaun was taken."

"And the baby?"

"Nothing more than a bundle of clothes and a recording. I really am sorry, Nora. I begged him to let me retrieve you, but he would hear none of it. He insisted you needed an objective view of the surface for a reason, and only now do I understand what that reason is."

"And what's that? Understand it to better destroy it?" Nora shrieked, and Nate flinched.

"No. We need to unite it, to create an economy to fit the ideal. Imagine: a world where you don't have to work in the hot sun because synths work the land, or eradicating super mutants, curing ghouls after hundreds of years, before they ever have a chance to turn feral, or where you don't have to be afraid to travel because the surface is monitored and patrolled? We could clean our water systems and make radiation free lakes, bring back endangered fish."

"So, have synths do all the work while scientists stay living the sheltered life? And who is going to protect the people? More synths? Is there an army of lab coats locked in a corridor I missed?"

Nate chuckled softly and opened a Nuka cola, handing it to her before taking one for himself. He leaned against a grey counter, ignoring that it was covered in dust. 

"You're still so beautiful when you're flustered," he laughed. "I've missed you. I missed you before the war, when we would pass each other in the halls, and I could just feel that the spark was gone. But that didn't even come close to the feeling of missing you in this place. You're all I have, Nora. Shaun's not going to be around forever, and I can't relate to anyone else here. Come back to me, help me take over this legacy and iron out the kinks."

Nora watched him for a moment, her warm honey eyes turning ice cold in an instant. She knew something was off, and had she anywhere to go, she would run. He knew he had her stuck in his web, but that didn't mean she would go down easy.

"You haven't answered my question."

Nate sighed softly, giving a small shrug as if to appease himself.

"The Institute has more than enough firepower for defensive maneuvers, but we are requiring an outside source for heavy guns and artillery. As we speak, things are being arranged. I told you I took my adoptive parents' surname when I started elementary school, and I have used that name through my life. I never thought much of it, until Shaun ordered blood work for me immediately after I woke from cryo. He compared my DNA and RNA sequences to samples he had obtained."

"What the hell does this have to do with anything?"

Nate crooked a smile from ear to ear, his grin more maniacal and unsettling than he realized.

"Arthur Maxson is not the only option for Elder."  

She took in a gasp and felt herself go weak in the knees just as he jumped to his feet.

"Yes, baby. My blood is older and purer than his, I have more of a claim to the title than he does. And I'm going to take what's mine, piece by piece," he stressed and he kissed her fingertips, "until I have full control over the Prydwyn. You'll be by my side, and we'll bring the technology of the Institute to the surface and make life better for everyone. We will change this world doll, you'll see"

Nora cold only stare as he took her hand gently, pressed it to his heart, and they both disappeared into a bright blue light.


	24. The Snake and the Bear, part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate reveals his vision to Nora, and we see how loony he really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that this diverts from canon. But if Danse is Maxson's only threat, that is not much of a threat, now is it? This conspiracy goes right to the top, but we know our couple will come out ahead in the end. Every story needs an antagonist. Have some faith people!  
> This chapter is broken in two, part II will have Nate and Maxson nose to nose, and a surprise. The good kind.

"Late. Figures," Nate mumbled, staring into the approaching radstorm. He had brought Nora to a small, abandoned shack while her head swirled around the facts before her: Nate, the Institute, Shaun. She didn't defy him when he asked her to sit, resting her head in her folded arms on the tble, not looking at him. He didn't say much to her, and she had no intentions of speaking.

He was insane. He woke up before her, never leaving her in her frozen agony. He and her own son conspired all this time to bring down the very faction they knew she supported. They claimed they wanted unity between the Brotherhood and the Institute, a way to combine all the available technology and save mankind, but she knew the truth: they wanted to rule over mankind. She was a pawn to them, nothing more than a way to infiltrate and betrayal the order and the man she loved.

"I'm not going to help you, Nate. I won't." She told him quietly, gently, not wanting to strike a chord and anger his unstable mind.

"You're my wife," he glared. "It's your job to support me, until death." His gritted teeth and clenched jaw told her to stop talking, to wait for whatever opportunity she had to run. For him to turn his back, fall asleep, relieve himself -- any distraction she could find. But the other part of her, the part that boiled with rage and betrayal exploded before she could clamp back down on the words.

"No. My husband died in vault 111. I won't help you, this is insane." She spat, her blood boiling. Nate wiped his cheek, cleaning it calmly as he gathered his thoughts.  

His hand came up quickly and, with as much force as a supermutant, he backhanded her. 

She stumbled backwards, tripping over a wooden chair before Nate was on her, restraining her hands above her head as she struggled to buck him off.

"You know, I always liked this game, Nora, but I just don't feel like playing today. Especially not when I know who you've been playing with when I'm not around. You've been busy, with both Danse and Elder Maxson himself. Do you think I didn't know? And what's this? A wedding band?" He asked, holding her closed fist near his face for inspection as she writhed under him. "This isn't the ring I gave you. Funny. After everything over the last two hundred and sixty years, you would get in bed with the one man who might be a problem for me. Seriously, I can't believe you."

"Are you going to kill me Nate?" She asked, still struggling against his massive form over her.

"Well, I wasnt. Really, that wasn't really even an option. But now?" Nate grazed his teeth against her ear. "I'm so angry with you I just might. But, in truth, I care for you Nora, and I need you for what I'm about to do. So, no. I'm not going to kill you." 

Instead, Nate was true to his word and tied Nora to the steel chair, leaving no room for escape. The more she pulled, the tighter the ropes got, and finally she gave up as Nate smirked at her.

"You see? There's no point in fighting it. You and I are meant to be together, darling. And soon, you'll see that and understand why all of this is happening. I want us to be a family again, Shaun is old now, and we missed out on the chance to raise our own child. We have another chance now -- don't you see that? This is destiny, love. I can't force you to come back to me, but I want you to see, to really see, what your future holds if you don't make the right choice."

Nora remained quiet and Nate's thoughts were interrupted with a loud knock to the door. He mumbled and turned the latch, opening the faded wooden door to a man in tattered robes, his face hidden with a dark hood. The two men warmly embraced, as brothers would, and the man dusted off his robes and pulled back his hood.

"Initiate Clark? What the hell? It wasn't bad enough that you betrayed your brothers in arms for the ghouls but now you're working with this lunatic?"

Nate glared, shooting daggers at her with his eyes, but Clark ignored her and turned back to his boss.

"Were you able to get them?" Nate asked him, eyes glinting with excitement.

"Of course, Elder."

Elder. Elder? Had this conspiracy run so deep that Nate was able to affect men deep in the ranks? How was he able to get a foothold there? How was he able to even meet with any of them, let alone whisper in the dark about secrets and plans?

"You see, my dear? Right here is all the proof I need to claim my rightful place. _My_ legacy. I am the rightful heir to the Maxson line, by blood. My ancestor was brother to one of the very first elders, and the honor should be _mine_."

Nora couldn't believe what she was hearing. Nate seriously planned on overthrowing Maxson. Her heart ached for him, knowing she mi th the never see him again. Nate may not want her dead now, but she would never help him turn the Brotherhood against itself. And worse, Maxson's own man had turned on him, enabling her husband the opportunity to seize command and depose, or murder, the man she loved. She couldn't let that happen. She would do whatever it took, to bury Nate and his secret along with him before she let him harm a hair on Arthur's head. He had been through enough, and she wouldn't let ghosts from her past put him through anything else.

"Nate, please. What are you going to do? I'll help you, but only if you promise me that you won't hurt him." She begged, holding back tears as she ran her finger along the small gold band that circled her finger. Clark looked at Nate briefly before stepping back out into the storm and leaving the two in tense silence.

Nate's eyes were filled with rage, his entire face taking on a dark and all most demonic sneer. He backhanded her again, splitting her lip open with one pass, and striking her cheek with another that followed in the opposite direction. Salty tears trickled down along the side of her nose, mingling with the blood at her mouth, before dropping down into her lap. Nate stared at her hard, looking every bit the madman he was.

"There is no negotiation here, Nora! Do you think I will give my enemy one ounce of pity after he slept with my wife?" He shouted. Realizing his outburst, he calmed, straightening his suit and tilting his head to the side, cracking his neck in three separate and disgusting pops. He gently stroked Nora's hair and turned her face to look at him. He spoke to her calmly then, barely above a whisper. "He stole everything that was rightfully mine. I tried to keep you from getting involved with him. Your friends also tried, for their own reasons. But he just had to take the one thing that meant anything to me. He has to pay for that, Nora. You'll understand in time, I promise. Everything I'm doing is for the greater good. Everything." He kissed her then, his lips coating with blood when she turned her head away. 

She refused to look at him, and didn't see his own tears then. He didn't even know if they were tears of hope or sadness, but he knew one thing: the time was almost near for him to put into action every plan he had made in the last two years, and he would make sure no one else got in his way. Not Maxson, not Nora, and not even God himself. 


	25. The Snake and the Bear, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second part to the previous chapter.  
> Maxson confronts Nate, is given a choice, and an unexpected savior appears.

Maxson was deposited approximately two miles away from the coordinates where Nora was supposed to be held prisoner. His every instinct told him this was a trap, that there was no hope of resting her and getting both of them back in one piece. Perhaps before his injuries, but certainly not now. Every step in his power armour was hell: his muscles were too weak to run, and the blazing hot sun was heating the steel to an uncomfortable temperature. His limbs ached and he had a sharp pain under his right ribs, but he couldn't let any of it deter him. He was her only hope.

He followed the route he was given by the flight crew, encountering little resistance aside from the odd bloatfly along his way, until he was about a half mile from the shack. He was bombarded by Synths then, their mechanical and monotonous voices breaking through the quiet stillness of the afternoon. He fought hard, using every piece of cover, every reflective surface, and every distraction he could muster. His training paid off; other than a rather painful burn that seared right through his power armour, he was relatively unhurt. That is to say, any more than he already was.

His arm could barely hold his laser rifle by the time he was through, and he was glad he didn't opt for his shotgun -- the recoil alone would have been enough to send him sprawling and to his death at the merciless machines. He was panting and sweating, blood trickling down his forehead, when he saw the shack in the distance, only about another half mile away. He was exhausted, unsure he would make it, but determined to try.

Another round of synths attacked when he was withing spitting distance of the dilapidated building, unsurprisingly by his determined assault against him since he had already gotten the upper hand against their first detachment. Several shots hit him this time, damaging his armour and denting his helmet. It was difficult to breathe, and he was having trouble holding them back. He had put down maybe half of the abominations, but he knew: he was going to die here, and Nora would have no one to get her out of there. He wanted to weep, but his cries came our as furious roars and he sank to his knees and fired relentlessly into the approaching mob of metal.

He heard it, faintly. The unmistakable firing of a laser weapon, and he closed his eyes and waited for death with a heavy heart.

The weapon didn't discharge at him, but it was still firing. He opened his eyes, watching the Synths turn and scatter, distracted by another combatant on the field.

"Go! Now!" Shouted Danse over the gunfire. At first Maxson was frozen stiff, watching the scene before him: Danse shooting into a group of Synths, metal bodies falling around him, his longtime friend lashing out furiously with hand to hand combat on anything that got too close. Maxson recognized the stroke of luck for what it was, and shrugged off his power armour. Without the added weight, he was able to run to the shack with the adrenaline Danse's backup had provided.

*           *            *

Nora started at the sudden pounding against the latched door, thankful she was sent a rescue but praying it wasn't Maxson.

Her prayers went unanswered, for when the door broke in half and splinters of faded wood littered the shack floor, there he was. His face was bloodied and he was covered in the dirt of battle, his lips curled into an angry snarl. She didn't have time to warn him; before he took a step, Nate had a knife to her throat.

"Hello Arthur, you're right on time. Please, do come in and sit. We've just been chatting while we were waiting."

"Let her go," Maxson demanded.

"I'm not one of you soldiers, Arthur. You can't expect to order me around like this. It's rude. I said, take a seat." Maxson looked into Nora's terrified eyes and obeyed, sitting within striking distance. If he saw one drop of blood, he would sink his knife into the stranger's face.

"What do you want?" He asked, his tone venomous and dripping with contempt.

"Do you know who I am?" Nate asked calmly, his face a mask of happy amusement.

"No, and I don't care. Tell me what you want and let her go."

"Again with the demands? Jeez, I tell you. Youth these days have no respect for one another." Nate used his hand holding the knife to scratch his nose while keeping a hand on Nora's throat. "Look, I don't want a big commotion, I was never much of a fighter. I'm here because you have something of mine and I want it back."

"Just let her go, and you'll have whatever you want."

"It's not that simple, although I'm sure in your simple mind it must be. You see everything in black and white, good and evil, up and down. But everything is grey, Arthur. There is no evil, and we're all just...floating in space. Waiting for death. But see, I'm tired of just... existing."

"I can solve that problem really easily," Maxson growled, reaching for his gun.

"I don't think you want to do that," Nate warned, grabbing Nora's hair and tilting her head back to expose her throat to the blade. "Place you gun on the floor and kick it over to me." Maxson had no choice, and so he followed the orders of this lunatic that held his lover's life by a thread. A very mentally disturbed thread.

"Good. Now. This document here gives me an advantage for once. It proves that I am, in fact, the heir to the Maxson dynasty, and you are an imposter."

"That's impossible. I was the only child of my parents, and my father was the rightful Elder. I was groomed for my position since birth -- I think if there had been a challenger for it, I would have been made aware."

"Oh, the simple man sees a simple solution. How quaint, and unexpected. Arthur, I am the brother to Roger Maxson, and your great, great, insert several more greats here, uncle. Oh, and uh, Nora's husband. My brother founded the Brotherhood of Steel after I was born, but our father acknowledged me only as his stillborn son to an anonymous mother. As you can see, I am far from stillborn. I was adopted by a nice family in Boston long before the bombs were even made. Nora and I were frozen, with our son. I woke up in shit place of a world -- you can imagine my surprise -- and instead of having my lovely wife at my side, I found out she was fucking one of my very distant relatives. Needless to say, I feel a bit betrayed.

"So here is the only deal I will offer you. Your life, in exchange for hers. She lives, and in exchange I will get the life I was meant to live 200 years ago. A fair trade I would think, don't you?"

"Arthur, dont! Too many people count on you!" Nora whimpered, struggling to look at him with her strained neck against the blade's edge.

"See, I knew you would say that, Nora! You can't ever let things go, can you? I don't really understand how you put up with her ordering you around like this, Arthur. All the nagging and demands... it can really damage a man's pride. And you're a prideful man, that's why you're here, without backup, as our intel predicted. Don't you see? We know everything you do, everything you say. We know all about you, and we have our fingers in all the pies. We knew about her and Danse, we knew she would tell you, knew you would propose to her, the cheating whore. We knew your initiate would flip, that Danse would get us this file, and that you would come alone. The only thing I'm not sure of, is whether or not you're really listening to me right now. So I'm going to ask you again: your life for hers, what's it going to be?"

Maxson looked at Nora as she wept openly. He would be ok, knowing her face was the last he would see. There was a chance the Danse could get her out of here. A chance she would get through this and that this bastard would shot dead before he left this shack. He left out a soft sigh, smiling gently at her, sadly, knowing she would mourn him. Someone would remember him, someone who loved him as Arthur, not Elder Maxson.

"I'm sorry, Nora. Don't be afraid. You'll be ok," he whispered, watching through his tears as she struggled against her restraints, shaking the wooden chair against the floor.

"Wise choice," Nate smiled, turning from Nora and pointing his pistol at Nate's temple. "Although, I was going to kill you anyway, truth be told."

Before Nate could get a shot off, Danse appeared in the doorway, laser rifle in shaking hands, aiming at Nate's back.

"Guess I have good timing then." Danse said, firing two shots to his back and one to his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to redeem Danse, just a little bit. We're back on track mostly, the main conspiracy has been found out, just a few loose end to tie up, a Blind Betrayal, and a romantic ending, maybe. Likely. Ok, definitely.


	26. Alias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxson given a list of synths from the information Nora procured, but isn't expecting the surprise we all know is coming next...

Danse didn't ride the vertibird back with them, choosing to keep his distance instead. Maxson shook Danse's hand before they departed, and the message he received from the Paladin's grip was clear: I'm sorry. Maxson decided to forgive him then, realizing that despite the past, Danse really was trying to make amends. Holding on to jealousy after the man saved his life was hardly appropriate.

He held Nora tightly in his arms the entire trip back, and for once the odd looks of the crew didn't bother him. She was safe. It didnt matter that she didn't speak to him, or that her eyes were narrowed in anger, or that her body was stiff and rigid under his arms. She was alive, and he would never let her out of his sight again.

When they docked aboard the Prydwyn, Nora did not wait for Maxson to exit the craft, or his power armour. Instead, she stormed away, her sandy blond hair bouncing behind her as she nearly ran into the ship, slamming the metal door behind her. Maxson refused to meet the eye of any of the soldiers he passed, instead walking casually back to the main deck where he knew he would find her. He stayed back a fair distance as he watched Haylen embrace her, soothing her as Nora wept into her arms. He didn't know why she didn't seek comfort from him, or why she fled from him, but he felt a pang of regret for whatever action he had made that caused her to behave this way towards him. He passed the two women without speaking, nodding at Haylen in acknowledgement as he passed. He supposed if she had to reach out to someone, he was glad it was Haylen.

A short time later, he found himself standing before Cade, a puzzled look on his face while the Knight-Captain waited for him to speak. He wasn't really sure what it was he wanted, or why he had avoided his own quarters in favor of passing Nora, just for her to shun him.

"Elder?" Cade called. He saw the confusion in his superior's face, and was concerned for him. He was always so sure of himself, but in that moment, Maxson looked like a child in the middle of a gunfight. Cade escorted him to a gurney, and Maxson obliged without protest. Cade checked his vitals in silence, worry crossing over his normally cheerful face.

"I don't know, I don't know," Arthur muttered as he lay back against the pillows.

"Sir, are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just... give me a stimpack and a few mentats." Cade administered the stimpack. Moments passed and Cade thought Maxson had fallen asleep, his eyes closed and his breathing deep. "Mentats, Cade. Now."

Cade frowned and popped two of the capsules out of the blister pack for him, handing them to him with a small paper cup of water. He watched Arthur throw his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed the pills, his eyes focusing anywhere but Cade's face.

"What the hell happened out there Arthur?" He asked, voice stern as he checked Maxson's pupils.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

Cade closed the curtain around Maxson's bed, wondering what in the world could have shaken his fearless Elder.

* * *

It was well past midnight when Nora slipped into medbay, sneaking past a snoring Cade and drawing back the curtain hiding Maxson's bed. She stood beside him, studying his face and memorizing every detail.

The broad bridge of his nose, broken in battle long ago. His thick brows, usually furrowed and serious. The lines of his pillowed lips, usually drawn into a frown, but just for her, offered a beautiful smile and tender caresses. His dark beard, usually expertly trimmed, was now shaggy and disheveled. His cheekbone was bruised a deep, blossoming purple. A fading scar on his right cheek, and angry red scar on his right, framing his face in the masculinity of a warrior. 

He had once told her he would die for her -- standard pillow talk, she had thought. But today, he had jumped head first into a trap set to snare him. He risked it all: his life, the Brotherhood, their future together. For her. She shook her head at his stupidity. All of it was her fault. She ran from his arms to those of another man. She opted to infiltrate the institute. She chose to trust Shaun -- the son who was not her son, not really.

She knew, for Arthur's sake, she needed to leave. If she really loved him, she knew she couldn't stay. She would do nothing more than drag him down for her poor choices, and she had no rights to his love, not when he gave it to her so blindly, so freely, and without reservation. She picked a stray piece of hair from his brow, pushing it back with the others, and muffled a sob against her palm. 

The soft noise woke him, and he grasped her hand, pulling it to him. His face betrayed no emotion, but that one gesture caused her to break down.

"You fucking idiot. You stupid, stupid man." She sobbed, as he shushed her and pulled her to his chest, ignoring the protestations of his joints. She didn't know how long she lay in his arms, weeping like a small child. When she looked up at him, his face was damp with his own tears, eyes red and exhausted. He smiled at her then, kissing her with as much tenderness as the first time he had. She wanted to throttle him for being so brave, so selfless, wanted to scream at him that she was leaving. But all she could do was listen to his breathing as she lay on his bare chest and he rubbed her back in small, comforting circles. It was selfish, she knew, but she didn't care. She couldn't live without him, and wasn't even going to try.

*           *           *

The first rays of dawn made their way across the deck of the Prydwyn, though Maxson and Nora were sheltered from it inside the infirmary. They were still nestled in each other's arms, awake, and cherishing the time together. Nora had explained the details she uncovered before she was captured: that her son was the reason the Brotherhood was there at all, that the technology down there was enough to save the Commonwealth, or destroy it if in the wrong hands. That Shaun woke Nate first, twisting him to a horrendous purpose. Cade had woken a few times in the night, advising Nora to go back to her own bunk and let him sleep, but Maxson wouldn't hear it. She was right where she needed to be, he told him. 

He was truly exhausted, but he was afraid if he closed his eyes, he would wake to find her gone, to find himself back in that shack, alone with a madman. He wanted so badly to ask how she felt about Nate's death, but right now, he was just grateful that she was here with him, breathing and laughing. It wasn't until she playfully swatted at him, forgetting about his pains, that he made any signs of discomfort. Feeling guilty, she jumped up to fetch Cade, and to hunt down a cup of coffee for him.

"Where are you going?" He asked, still clutching at his side and pretending it didn't hurt.

"I'm going to get some ice for you and a cup of hot coffee for me." She laughed, and he playfully pulled her back to him, licking his lips. She kissed him and gently pushed him back into bed, ignoring his pleading eyes and grasping hands.

"Fine," he huffed jokingly. "But only if you bring me a cup too."

"Not a chance," she winked and was gone. 

Maxson let out a happy sigh, reliving the events of the last forty-eight hours. He had no idea how they made it through that nightmare, but he knew he owed his life, and Nora's, to Danse. Strangely, the man hadn't been to see him since he returned to the ship, but after the swing Maxson took at him, he wasn't really surprised. He was probably off with Haylen somewhere, whining about lost love. Maxson laughed to himself, knowing he was being petty, but he didn't particularly care.

He thought about Nora's husband too, lying on the cold floor of a dilapidated shack in the middle of nowhere. At one time she had planned to bury him, but now he was not sure she would. Though she didn't seem to be grieving now, there was a chance she would in the future, and the last thing he wanted was for her to bury her husband's rotting corpse. Her _dead_ husband, he corrected himself. She was no longer tied to that lunatic, but Maxson would honour her wishes if she wanted to give him a service, maybe even give him Maxson family death rights. He was after, all, related. The thought made him shudder.

He picked up the hand mirror from the nightstand, studying his own features as Nora had done. He wondered if Nora saw something of Nate in him, if that was why she had become attracted to him in the first place. He noticed none of his features resembled that of her late husband - his face rounder and more intense, his nose wider, brows thicker, teeth shaped differently, eyes an ice blue where Nate's had been dark brown. His face was littered with small, faint scars, but they weren't even noticeable since the long, thick crevices that marred him pulled the eye away. It gave him a sense of relief to know she hadn't been trying to replace Nate when she gave herself to him. He had scheduled a surgery with a reconstructive surgeon to repair the hideous railroad tracks running down his face, keeping it secret lest Nora or Cade found out and scolded him, but with his need to marry her sooner rather than later, he had it postponed.

A figure in the doorway caught his attention and he turned his face to smile at Nora, only to be faced with a solemn Cade and pale-faced Quinlan. His casual grin turned serious in a fraction of a second, his brows furrowed in anxiety. Proctor Ingram hovered behind, smaller without her power armour and seemingly absent due to her small, natural frame. Maxson's heart clenched in his chest; whatever it was, it was serious if it warranted his three most trusted advisors. One by one, they filed into the medbay, closing the door behind them. Maxson had a mind to protest, to let them know that Nora was returning, but Quinlan's voice came quiet and fast, like a thief shrouded in darkness.

"Elder Maxson, we have uncovered some very disturbing information from the records Knight Nora downloaded from the Institute."

"Yes, her husband was working for them. She has brought us very valuable intel, the technology there needs to be destroyed by any means necessary. Have Paladin Danse and Scribe Haylen lead a recon team to the area and report the level of security above ground." 

All three pairs of eyes were downcast, heartbroken. Ingram shifted awkwardly against the wall, Cade let out a small cough, and Quinlan shuffled from foot to foot. Something was wrong, Arthur could feel it. 

"Sir, part of what she retrieved was a series of synth designation numbers, corrupted recall codes, and DNA sequences for each escaped synth since they began keeping records twenty years ago," Cade explained, his voice shaking. "We ran the DNA against all available records, within the Brotherhood and without. We found a handful of matches in thousands of records. One being designation X6-88, alias unknown, killed in combat by Paladin Danse and Knight Nora; G7-81, alias Glory, location unknown; C2-41, alias Carla, last known whereabouts: Goodneighbour; B5-92, alias Gabriel, killed in combat, also by Knight Nora; and finally M7-97, alias Richard Danse, Brotherhood of Steel, AWOL." 


	27. Make it Clean, Make it Count

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love isn't all unicorns and glitter, especially when political scandal arrives in the middle of wartime.

Arthur shook his head, unsure of what he just heard.

"What did you just say?" Maxson asked slowly, his eyes intently staring into Cade's, daring him to repeat the accusation. Cade swallowed hard, looking at his comrades for help.

"I hardly believed it myself, Elder. I checked the genetic rechecked sequence, and had Proctor Ingram check it also. Every DNA marker is an exact match, there is less than a one in one-trillion chance it belongs to anyone else." Quinlan added.

"Then... what you're telling me is that my best soldier, my oldest friend, and the man who saved my life just yesterday, is a synth, and a wolf in sheep's clothing?" Maxson asked, closing his eyes in disbelief and praying he heard wrong. The three proctors nodded and mumbled a 'yes sir' in unison. They were just as pained as he was, no doubt. He had been a longtime friend and excellent soldier, but who knows how long he had been a synth, if any of them even met the real Richard Danse, or if any of their information had been leaked to the enemy. How else would Danse know where to find Nate? How else would he know just when Nora would be attacked? None of this made any sense, and yet...

"I found some coffee!" Nora's voice called as the door creaked open. She saw the three proctors standing resolutely still, Maxson's face white as snow, and tensed at the silence. 

"Thank you Knight Nora, but this is a confidential conver-" Quinlan started to see her back out the door. 

"That's enough!" Maxson roared. All four visitors flinched at his sudden outburst, Nora spilling some of the hot, black coffee on the sterile floor. "I am the Elder on this vessel, and I will not have my subordinates giving out orders or speaking on my behalf! Knight Nora reports directly to me, not anyone else! Furthermore, I expect the three of you to follow my orders and assist me wherever I direct you, without question! It is obvious that I have been too lenient for too long with the three of you and that you have been attempting to tug on reins that you imagine might exist. Now, now get out, I will handle this situation accordingly without interference from any of you."

The three proctors left with only a salute in response. Cade showed guilty remourse, Quinlan disdain at being scolded, and Ingram was near tears. Nora turned to follow behind them when Maxson called out to her.

"Stay behind, Knight. I would have a word." It was not a request but a command, and Nora froze. He had never spoken to her in this manner, never with such cold directness. "And that coffee, if you don't mind," he said, almost in apology for his outburst.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" She asked, holding out the mug to him and sitting down next to him on the bed. Arthur's didn't speak for a moment, collecting his thoughts as he sipped on the bitter drink.

"I have an assignment for you Nora, and I don't involve you lightly, especially after all that's happened in the last few days, but I can't trust anyone else with it."

"Of course," she answered without hesitation. He wouldn't look as the her, drumming his fingers against his thighs, in deep thought while he tried to think of a solution.

"Did you know?" He asked bitterly. 

"Did I know what? Arthur, you're scaring me, what's wrong?"

He looked at her finally, studying her and determining her guilt and innocence within the whole debacle.

"You didn't know," he realized, dumbfounded. Danse had played them all for fools, and Nora -- with her forgiving heart and compassionate views -- was dragged along for the ride. Knowing Danse betrayed Nora hurt more than the betrayal he now felt himself. "Danse... he's a synth Nora. The information you recorded at the Institute proves it. And I... I need you to do your duty and put him down." He couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. He and Danse had been friends for years -- best friends -- and he couldn't believe he just issued a kill order, let alone that the man was one of the very things they were fighting against.

She stared at him, slack-jawed and in shock. There was no possible way that Maxson just ordered her to kill a member of his crew. A good man. A soldier. A friend.

"What?"

Of all the questions she could have asked, it was the only one she managed to speak. She could say nothing else, her mouth would not form the words swimming in her mind in a thousand directions at once. Her sponsor. Her former lover. Her friend.

"Danse is a machine. He could be an enemy spy for all we know. He's been leaked privileged information before, but I never thought... I mean I should have realized, but I didnt, I couldn't know. He was a brother to me, and now..." ahead trailed off, his eyes showing glimpses into the pain he was trying so desperately to hide from her. "Do your duty, Knight. Find him and put him down." It was clear he wanted to say more, but he couldn't bring himself to.

"I don’t know if I can, Arthur. I love you, but this is wrong. He saved our lives, countless times. I can't take a man's life in cold blood. I mean, I already kill Raiders by sneaking into their settlements in the middle of the night, giving them no chance. I already feel like I've become the raider, like I'm no better than them. Please don't ask me to do this." She begged.

"Perhaps I was unclear by implying this was optional," he nodded. "I'm giving you a direct order now, Knight. Not as Arthur, but as Elder Maxson, leader of the Brotherhood. Make it clean and make it count." He looked away, fixing his eyes on the floor. She stared at him incredulously, not believing he could be so cold, so heartless. She realized maybe she didn't know him at all, that maybe the man she loved had never been the real Arthur Maxson.

"Then let me make myself clear, Elder. This is my last assignment for the Brotherhood. Consider this my resignation," she spat back, hopping off the bed and storming out the door. Maxson ran his hands through his hair, letting out a frustrated groan when it slammed behind her. 

He hated her for it, but she was right. He really was a fucking idiot sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two of my favorite things: unicorns and glitter. Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.
> 
> (To you youngin's, that's a G.I. Joe reference. Gawd! My sustenance includes entertainment quotes and ice cream. And just think: I once had a life like you.)


	28. A Heroic End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxson gives Danse a Heroic end to the Paladin's tale...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay and the loooolong chapter. Was going to split this into two, enjoy :)  
> Again, unedited as yet.

Maxson listened to Nora's anxious breathing over the hidden microphone she wore just under her lapel. He made sure to pin it to her before she departed, and he followed her soon after in his own vertibird from a safe and conspicuous distance. He didn't want her to feel that he didn't trust her -- it was that synth he didn't trust. The abomination knew too much about the Brotherhood, and about Nora. That made him dangerous and after all he had put her through, placing her in danger one more time without backup was not an option. Synths were merciless when cornered, and no amount of loyalty would change that, no amount of trust would soften the blow if Danse took Nora from him.

Her vertibird landed in the distance, and though he couldn't see her, he could her her heavy breathing as she took out the turrets surrounding the listening post. Surely if Danse was innocent, he wouldn't have gone through all the trouble to arm this place. Especially when the most likely people to happen across it were Brotherhood soldiers. The air over the radio went silent, and Maxson listened in anticipation as Nora creaked open the heavy steel door after hacking into the computer terminal. He didn't approve of these... alternative means... that she often displayed on her missions, but when it came down to it, he supposed any moment she spent concealed was one she didn't spend with a laser rifle pointed at her head. That didn't stop his stomach from knotting at the thought of her walking into the lion's den. She was a good soldier, but her compassion could get her killed if she forgot, even for an instant, any of her training.

 _The training that Danse gave her,_ he thought sadly. He would miss his friend, but he knew this had to be done -- Danse was a synth, and synths were the enemy. He regretted his decision of sending Nora in. Not only did he know he should have gone alone, he knew that if she pulled the trigger, he would lose her forever. He had given her a mission in his thoughtlessness, but it was her duty to execute it, even if she disagreed. It was a choice she needed to make -- he could only bend so much in his duty, and he could _never_ break. An Elder must make tough decisions, and this was the toughest he had ever been tasked with making. He could convince the Council of Nora's worth in time, and even if he couldn't, he knew her worth. But a synth had no worth, their very existence was due to the ego of man thinking himself a god. He would make her see that in time, and she would forgive him.

He heard her descend to the lower level, the elevator humming quietly, and her breath picking up speed. He was sure if she didn't calm down that she would faint before she ever found the machine, and would be killed before he could do anything to stop it. His own heart was racing, his palms sweating, and he realized he had never been so afraid, had never felt as helpless as he did in that moment. Not even when Nate held a blade to her throat, or when he was surrounded by synths. This was a different kind of fear: the kind that would eat at him until he knew she was safe from that abomination, until she was safe in his arms again.

"Danse?" She called. Maxson cringed with the softness she showed in her voice, and he began to pace. Part of him wished she would not put the synth down, so that he could protect her from that heavy burden. He reminded himself it was a decision she had to make, that this would test her in ways the wasteland never could. She began to hack into a Protectron, it's beeping and mechanical voice fading into silence.

*           *            *

She found him, shivering and naked except for his boxers, sitting on his rusting bed with his head in his hands, silently weeping.

"Danse, it's me, Nora." Still, he did not look up. She pitied the man before her. Usually he seemed so strong and confident, but now he was a reflection of his former self, a husk of the man she once knew. She bent down in front of him, sitting on her heels. She placed a hesitant hand on his bare shoulder, hoping to have him meet her eyes, but instead he shrugged her off. 

"Does he even want me alive?" He asked quietly, his voice shaking and bitter. She couldn't lie to him, though she wanted to comfort and assure him.

"No. I'm sorry," she said, squeezing his shoulder in apology to match her words.

"It figures," he scoffed. "I should have known he would send you. Though I suppose, if there is one face I want to see before I die, it's yours."

"Danse, why didn't you tell me? I could have helped you get away, to start over."

"It isn't true, Nora," he said simply.

"I know you want to believe that. I want to believe it too. The evidence they have though, it's DNA Danse. It doesn't lie." She told him, her eyes welling with tears. He shook his head slowly, and turned his eyes towards hers.

"The Institute -- I... I'm such a fool. He told me this would happen, and now I see that this is how the price has tonbe paid. I'm not a synth. The information is doctored, I swear it. 

"What are you talking about, Richard?" A tear slipped down his cheek and he angrily wiped it away. She knew his name, and the one time she used it was right before his impending death.

"I... I've done horrible things. To you, to Maxson. I thought I was protecting you from him, from his whims and his anger. Yes, I told the Council about the two of you. I made a deal with a stranger, to be with you, to change things in the Brotherhood for the better, but it nearly ended up taking everything I love. In that, they failed, but I still have to pay the price." He stammered quickly, his words never seeming to have time to fully form before he blurted out the next.

"What price? Help me understand! I can help you."

"I... I knew about the attack on your life, but it was too late. You were already gone. I tried to find you, but Maxson had me held in the brig for our... intimate past. Clark had offered me a way out: he would distract the guards and help me escape. He didn't tell me why, or what they wanted in return, but that the source had a plan and I would be playing my part. I knew when they told me I wasn't coming back, but I didnt know why. When I killed Clark, outside the shack. He...he spoke to me before he died. He told me that he had stolen the initial records from you, and if I went in there, we would never see the real documents. I would be signing my own death warrant. And now I see what he meant. You can't help me, Nora. This goes deeper than we can dig."

 "I'll speak to Arthur, have him see that this was part of a plot against us."

"A plot I helped with because I had feelings for you. He'll never believe that. You need to kill me, Nora-"

"No!" She shouted. "I am not going to kill you. You're a good man, Danse. I'll get you out of this somehow. Even if the Brotherhood doesn't accept you back into the fold! We'll figure out something, I promise. "

"Nora," he said, smiling through his tears. "Would you run away with me? Put your life in danger for me when I'm wanted as a synth? Would you leave everything behind, for me? Could you love me the way you love him?" He asked, already knowing her answer.  

"You know I cant, Richard. But I'll do everything it takes to save your life. For that I will risk my own."

He closed his eyes, smiling to himself, resigning to his fate.

"Arthur will never listen to me, not after betraying his trust. I'll never have the woman I'm in love with, I've come to accept that...but I'm living in hell." He took a deep breath, steadying his voice with a swallow. "To lose the Brotherhood too, I have nothing left. I don't want to live in a world where I have nothing...where I am nothing. I trained you to do your duty, to be strong. And now I'm asking you to prove to me that you are."

"Please Danse, don't think this way. I can't do it, I won't murder you, I won't." She begged, tears rolling off her cheeks and dropping onto the tops of his bare feet.

"I can't..." Danse's breath hitched in his throat, trying in desperation to make her understand. He was a machine, but the way he felt, he couldn't pretend that there was some fault in his programming, or that he was designed to infiltrate her life in this manner. "Tell me you don't love me, Nora. Look at me and tell me you have never felt anything for me. I can't go on like this, wondering. I need to know." His eyes pleaded with her and her heart melted. She felt the flames of his sorrow, bright and searing hot in their intensity as they lapped against her conscience. She had done this, she had lured him into the game of desires versus logic, and while she came out top, he was spiraling into an abyss that she could not save him from. 

*           *           *

Maxson felt rage stir withing him, his chest wanting to burst from the seams. He listened with his heart in his throat as Danse confessed to being in love with her, the tone he used pitiful as he asked her to flee with him. Maxson couldn't stand what he was hearing. He began to pace wildly as Danse begged her to take his life, saying all the romantic things that Maxson could never bring himself to say. Danse pleaded with her to deny her feelings, to give him some closure. Maxson scoffed at the ridiculousness of the synth's request, but when he heard her answer, his knees went weak and he fell silently to the cracked earth.

"I do love you Danse,"  she said, her voice cracking over the radio. Maxson felt his eyes mist over with the beginnings of tears. He didn't want to give Danse the satisfaction of seeing him grieve, or Nora the satisfaction of making him the fool. He loved her, by God he loved her, yet she readily confessed loving a synth. The breath he was holding was stagnant in his lungs, his world spinning as he sat at looked at the radio in his hands, willing it for an explanation. 

"But I'm not in love with you," she finished. Arthur's head snapped up, turning the volume up on the radio, not giving a damn if his crew heard the exchange going on below. "You're my friend, my mentor, and yes, at one time we may have had something of a physical relationship. But Richard, you _know_. You know that I love Arthur, I do. I'm _in_ love with him. I want to spend my life with him. I'm sorry if I gave you reason to feel otherwise -- if I gave you reason to believe I had those kinds of feelings for you. But I truly believe you will find that sort of love with someone else if you allow yourself to. I need you to do that for me, to be happy, when you're ready. Until then, I'm here for you, but as a friend. Only as a friend." 

Maxson nearly fell, his legs shaking at hearing her words. He had nearly -- just for a moment -- allowed himself to believe that maybe he simply wasn't enough for her. That her heart would find someone better, less scarred, more romantic or better with expressing emotion. Despite his shortcomings, despite everything that happened from the moment he first pressed his lips to hers and heard her whimper in reply, she wanted him. The love he felt for her made his chest swell, and he picked himself up off the ground as he heard the elevator ascend through muffled radio waves.

*          *          *

She laid a hand on Danse's forearm as the elevator brought them back to the surface, it's motors humming as the cables pulled it further and further up. She had been truthful, and though she knew he was hurting, she wouldn't lie to him. She had convinced him that his life was worth saving, she hoped, and that his friendship was important to her.

Danse offered her a weak smile, still not convinced. She knew it would take time, that he had to rediscover who he was, what he was, and how he fit into the world. It would not be an easy journey for him, but she would be there to support him through it. He already had some of his former confidence creep back into his stance, clothed now in a fresh flannel shirt and jeans that were relatively stain free. He was a synth, but he would face this world as a man would, she knew.

It wasn't until they exited the listening post that her smile faded and Danse's confidence again wavered. With a heavy scowl, Maxson stood, armed with his laser rifle pointed directly at Danse. Nora stepped in front of her friend, squaring off with her lover in a test of wills. 

"Nora, step away from this abomination and board the vertibird. I'm taking you back to the Prydwyn where we will have a long discussion." Maxson ordered.

Her jaw set stiffly, raised to him in a defiant glare.

"No, Arthur. I am happy to speak with you once Danse is well on his way. _Safely_." She spat back at him, daring him with her eyes to kill her to reach her friend.

"Have you come to kill me yourself, or do you not want to get your hands dirty, _Elder_?" Danse hissed over Nora's head, challenging he larger man to physical combat, despite Nora pushing maintaining a good distance between them.

"My hands are already dirty from allowing a _synth_ on my ship."

"Enough!" Nora yelled, holding up a timid hand to reach for Maxson's laser rifle. He let her take it slowly, watching her with cold eyes as the synth watched him with an unreadable expression. "We have no way to know if the information we've received from the Institute is accurate, or just a part of the elaborate plot that Nate and Shaun cooked up. If you kill him, and discover he was human, you will never forgive yourself, and I will never forgive you either."

"You know what he is, Nora! He is the enemy in every sense! He is a traitor, either way, and we must eradicate this sort of filth if it forms in our ranks. What if they're right and he is a synth? I won't ask you to do this, but I must.  How could I live with myself if anything were to happen to you? I want you to be the mother of my children someday!" shouted at her, his face inches from hers while Danse fidgeted nearby, unsure what he should do.

Nora softened at this, bringing a soft hand to his cheek. She ran a thumb over the scar there as she often did, her eyes pained but understanding.

"And what will you teach them? About mercy, building a new, stronger world, or flinching away from the past?"

Maxson was growing frustrated, but her face showed no signs of relenting. He growled, turning to Danse with a glare. There, in front of Nora and within a visible distance from the flight crew that one doubt were watching, he again punched Danse, square in the jaw. 

His weakened state did not allow for much of an impact, and the shocked former Paladin barely stumbled back.

"Now we're even. Paladin Danse, you are hereby discharged from the Brotherhood of Steel. In light of your recent heroics, however, it will be said that you were captured by the Institute during our rescue of Knight Baker, and are presumed dead. If you are found in the Commonwealth by Brotherhood soldiers, you will be fired upon immediately. Know that my love and trust for this woman is what stayed my hand. I should hope that you respect her wishes, because if I see you near her again, I will tear you apart with my bare hands. Is that clear?"

Danse was stunned by the mercy that Nora had brought out in Maxson, and despite the pain he found deep in his chest, he nodded his head in submission. 

"Thank you, Arthur. You have my word, I will respect your wishes and vacate the Commonwealth. Before I do, please, take care of her. She's better than us both. " 

Danse moved his eyes to Nora's face, getting one last look before spending an immortal life without her. He turned before she cloud say goodbye, and disappeared into the shadows.


	29. Making a Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Nora and Maxson make a confession, but Nora's hits hard, making Maxson realize his past glory means nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No edits...still...

Maxson and Nora said little on the trip back to the Prydwyn, both too preoccupied with thoughts of Danse's sad fate: being forced from his home, his friends, his purpose. They both knew showing mercy was the right course of action, despite how Maxson originally fought against the very notion of it. After hearing the private conversation between her and Danse, he was certain. If he executed Danse and later found out he was indeed human, his life would forever change. He would lose his woman, his friends, his position, possibly even his life. Cold blooded murder wasn't something that the Brotherhoodcould easily ignore, no matter who perpetrated the crime. Letting Danse return was not an option either; the uncertainty of his allegiance would cause commotion in the ranks, at the very least, possibly cost lives of both his men and the citizens of the Commonwealth. 

Maxson sighed, taking Nora's hand in his; hers soft and small, while his rough and large. His guilt for listening in on her private conversation weighed heavily on his mind, and he had to remind himself he had not been eavesdropping out of jealousy, or at least not entirely. Up until he heard the words from her lips, played back over the static of the sort wave radio, he had his doubts: her past feelings for Danse, the difficult way their relationship started, his ugliness -- both inside and out. He was a monster, he knew it, and in no way did he deserve her love. He had no idea what he did for it, or how she could ever bring herself to love a man such as him. But in all his self-doubt, all the self-loathing and despair he brought upon himself, she saw something in him that he would never understand. 

Nora looked up, her honey colored eyes locking on to his and her blond hair whipping in the draft brought from the vertibird's blades. She shifted her seat so that she could sit between his thighs, her back pressed against his broad chest as she learned her head on his shoulder. Her eyes were a mixture of sadness and relief, knowing that Danse was safe, yet grieving the loss of her friend. She entwined her fingers with his and pressed her lips to his jaw in soft reassurance.

"I need to confess something Nora," Maxson admitted, holding her gaze and refusing to look away restore the guilt he felt. "Everything you said... every word... I heard all of it." He gingerly reached for her collar and removed the microphone, revealing it in shaking fingers. 

"Did you think I would betray you?" She asked incredulously. 

"Of course not," he replied softly, placing the small device in her palm. "I was worried. I know you can handle yourself, but after Nate... if I lost you, I don't know what I would do. I trust you with my life, but I wasn't sure how Danse would react. We backed him into a corner and I expected him to fight back. I wanted to protect you. I knew you wouldn't pull that trigger, and I realized as soon as you left that I never aphid have sent you. That's why I followed you, to take that burden from you. I had every right to ask you to do this as your Elder, but as a man... you deserve better. I'm sorry."

She took a deep breath, turning her face away for a moment while the vertibird docked on the Prydwyn once more. It was late, the crew had all retired for the night, and the cold breeze gutted over the flight deck while the crew retreated from sight with a simple salute to their superior. 

"I understand, " she said sincerely, and the two retired to his quarters for the evening. 

Arthur had an initiate fetch dinner for the two, and he lit a few candles to create a warmer atmosphere. He never had been much of a romantic, but her revelation had left him in the mood for a heartfelt conversation. He needed to express to her everything that he felt: his devotion, his trust, his love. He wanted to discuss their nuptials, to ensure she had no concerns with their future or the present. Mostly he needed to be close to her, to lay between her thighs and feel her around him as she whispered his name. 

The food came, and Arthur poured two glasses of red wine to accompany the steak. Nora pushed the food around on her plate, opting to sip on water instead of the wine. He engaged in small talk for a bit, but realizing she was short and disinterested with her responses, he soon feel quiet. He watched her face for signs of anger and found none. Finally, when the uncertainty concerning her thoughts proved to be too much, he decided to discuss the wedding.

"It is not customary for Brotherhood brides to wear gowns, but I understand if you wish to make an exception. Though where you would find one is not something I would be familiar with," he admitted warmly. She smiled at his attempt, recognizing the gesture behind it: an apology. Again. She still did not offer an answer to his unasked question, no attempt to name the elephant in the room. He knew he needed to say something, to tell her every emotion and every doubt he had, but he wasn't sure he had the right words. Resigning to whatever fate held, he finally spoke. 

"Nora, I know I don't always say the right thing. Truly, I do. I'm not the romantic type like Danse, or the sensitive type like your friend Preston. Or even the intuitive type like that Deacon you've told me about. But I need you to know I trust you above anyone. I love you more every day, and I want to spend my life with you. You found something in me that I didn't know was there, and you love me when I can't even love myself. I want to repay you tenfold for every kindness you've shown me. Every strength you've given me. Do you still--"

"Did you mean what you said?" She interrupted, her eyes searching his for a hint of deceit. "When we were outside of the listening post?" 

"I don't know what you're referring to. But if it helps, every single word I said, I meant all of it. I've never lied to you; I never will."

She looked away from his eyes, words obviously hanging in the air between them. She placed her utensils on the edge of her plate, taking the moment to consider her words. 

"You said you wanted a family." 

"I meant every word I said," he repeated. She stood from the table quietly, and he watched her as she stepped closer to him, close enough for him to wrap his arms around her waist. So he did. He held her against him as he sat, his hands circling her lower back as he felt her tears drop on his brow, warm and wet. He wasn't sure what was bothering her, but he could at least offer her comfort in her distress.

She took his face and her hands, cupping his cheeks tenderly as she leaned down to kiss him sweetly. He reacted in kind and soon was pulling her into his lap. She curled into him, resting her face against the top of his head, taking his hand in her own. Very slowly, she directed it downwards, but instead of the usual game she played, she held his hand to her abdomen. He looked at her as she pulled away slightly, just enough to look at him. Again, he saw the question, the unspoken fear that haunted her throughout dinner and beyond, and he understood. 

"Are you saying...?" He asked, both terrified and overjoyed.

"Affirmative, Elder, " she whispered, not trusting her voice to speak any louder lest her own anxiety be heard. 

He smiled at toothy grin at her, laughing into her mouth as he kissed her. His hands caressed over her belly lovingly, and soon found their way under her fatigues and under her bottom as he carried her to his bed.

Arthur Maxson, honored Elder to the Eastern Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, saviour of humanity and first of his peers, added his most important accolade: father.

Despite all his accomplishments before, this, he felt, made him a man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm well aware that a sperm donor is not necessarily a father, but in this case it is.   
> We have the final quest to get through (quickly) and a bittersweet epilogue.
> 
> Thanks for your patience guys, as this comes to an end, I want to thank each and every one of you for every kudos you've left, every view this received, and every single comment you've made. Your kindness and feedback is what makes this community wonderful to be a part of!


	30. Railroaded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The decision to move is made for them, and Maxson finds her to be the wiser once again.

"I don't think I can do this, Nora," he told her, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across her bare back.

"We have no choice," she told him, voice sleepy and eyes closed. Her soft breaths against his arm tickled his skin, and he cherished the very beautiful, very naked, woman that was curled into his chest.

"Things are different now. I can't send you back in there, not when you're carrying my child. We said we would get married, have a family. You know what will happen if you are faced with your son," Maxson reminded her. She snaked her arm around his waist and held him tightly against her.

"My son," she told him quietly, "is not a worry for me."

"Because you believe he will spare you if he catches you? He left you to die at the hands of that madman. I can't let you near him."

She smiled, placing feather-light kisses across his chest.

"My son," she murmered, dragging her arm out from behind him and pulling it to her belly. "My son is the future of the Brotherhood, our legacy for this world. Shaun died a long time ago, that monster... he has no idea the wrath awaiting him once I get him in my sights."

Arthur chuckled against her, his chest rumbling against her ear as he pulled the sheets around their naked bodies.

"Despite your... very encouraging passion for our cause... I would never forgive myself for losing you. I won't allow it, we'll find someone else. And how do you know it's a boy? Maybe my child will be a daddy's girl, the spitting image of her mother." He laughed heartily. "I do have plenty of weaponry available to ward off the boys, so I'm not worried."

"I think the fact she's a Maxson will be enough to ward of the boys," she quipped in return.

"Power _is_ intimidating," he agreed.

"Oh, no I meant because Maxson is synonymous with stubborn," she teased as she several playfully slapped his arm. 

A sharp knock at the door followed by Quinlan's anxious voice interrupted their private time. This had been their quiet time, time to spend with one another before their imminent nuptials, the days were fast winding down. Times like these were hard to come by with all the preparations and battle tactics against the Institute, and Maxson was beginning to show his years both in his face and in his temperament. 

"What?" He barked against the closed door while tickling Nora's abdomen the with his fingertips.

"Sir, I regret to have to interrupt your... siesta as it were... but you're needed immediately on the flight deck. The Minutemen stronghold is under attack, and they are requesting assistance from their allies."

Maxson and Nora sprang out of bed, searching for clothing and boots amidst a whirlwind of body movement. Not five minutes later, they were boarding a vertibird, on their way to the Castle with an escorted of four vertibirds.

"Do we have any idea who is responsible for the attack?" Nora asked, her nerves flickering to life and pushing adrenaline throughout her body.

"Negative, ma'am. But we'll grind those fuckers into the dirt and plant mutfruit on their graves." The pilot assures her.

So it was that the Brotherhood descended upon the Castle, their miniguns firing against the attackers. When all was said and done, forty people were littering the ground -- twelve Minutemen and twenty-eight unidentified people in dark leathers.

"Coursers?" Maxson asked, toeing one with his boots while Nora checked on her settlers. 

"Affirmative, Elder Maxson, sir. Though why they would attack the Minutemen when they face greater threats is beyond me." Haylen uttered, exasperated. Since Danse's rumoured death, she had addressed most everyone with cold directness, the personal charm she once yielded like a torch seemed to have disappeared along with him.

Nora didn't understand why the Minutemen were being targeted either, and why they hadn't been passed over for the Brotherhood, the far greater threat. It became clear to her in a flash when she saw Deacon running toward her, clutching his side and limping the entire way down the beaten path. He collapsed just inside the gate, with Nora softening his fall with her body, an shoulder under his arm.

"Deacon!" She cried, Maxson looking on in confusion at the scene. Unfortunately, Deacon was a mystery they would need to discuss later.

"Hey, Charmer. Thought I would drop in for a visit." Apparently, bleeding profusely from a life threatening wound was another walk in the park for him. His loose, casual clothes, usually crisp and clean with starch and faintly smelling of lemon, now we're stained, bloody, and smelling of death and decay. 

"What happened? We need to get you to a medic!" She insisted, gesturing for the resident doctor to hurry over.

"No time. Listen, they found HQ. Dez made me run. To find you." His breaths were raspy and painful by the look of it.

"What happened? Deacon, what's going on?" She asked, but his eyes were terrifyingly close to fluttering closed.

"I don't think they made it, Charmer. Synths -- they found us. I don't know how. We were all called in for a debriefing, but... it was an ambush. We took out a lot of them, the place was rigged to blow. But you have to get in there before they regroup. Destroy them once and for all." 

Maxson watched as Nora's lip trembled in disbelief, not believing himself that the Institute could be so brazen, and worse, that they would attack a group so small. He didn't know if this was a plot, but judging from Nora's face, he saw she didn't much care. The medics gently placed Deacon on a gurney, and she grabbed for his hand desperately, willing her essence into him. _Live_ , she silently urged him.

"Hey, don't worry about me, boss. I've taken waaaay worse. I'll be fine."

Deacon squeezed her hand and offered her a sad smile that spoke to loud, a lie that, for once, she saw right through.

 _Goodbye_ was what she read in his eyes, eyes that had abandoned his dark sunglasses somewhere in his urgent mission. Now the mission was hers, and she would kick some mother fucking ass. They carried him to the safety of the great stone walls, and she turned her determined eyes to Maxson, not asking for permission, but rather forgiveness.

"No, Nora. As Elder of the Brotherhood, I forbid you from undertaking a mission that will get you killed. We talked about this."

"You talked, Arthur. But I'm a leader, too. It's my son doing these horrible things."

"And the Railroad also, Nora. They had what was coming to them. It's one less faction for us to go toe to toe against."

"If it wasn't for the Institute, there would be no Railroad. I'm going, love. Don't ask me to shirk my duties, not now." She begged. 

He paced in front of her, his brows creased in anger, or perhaps contemplation, she wasn't sure. He ran his fingers through his hair, landing his eyes on her small frame. She was so fragile, so innocent, but he knew at the same time how formidable she could be. He asked her once to kill a man he thought was his enemy and she refused because she could see the forest despite the trees. Now he was in the same spot, but this time he was asking her to forsake a duty instead of fulfill it.

He stepped closer and drew her into his arms. She softened against his embrace, taking in the scent of him: leather, sweat, and soap. It may be the last time, they both knew, but neither of them said a word. They held each other against the darkening twilight, and Nora wasn't sure, but she thought she saw tears in his eyes. Finally he pulled away, cupping her cheeks in his palms and looking deep into her honey colored eyes.

"Tomorrow." He said, and her eyebrow quirked in question. He smiled sadly, kissing her lips and tasting her mouth, her soft breath on his cheek as he pulled away and stepped back. "Tomorrow I'm going to marry you. Don't leave me waiting."

She nodded quietly and found a plea in his ice blue eyes.

_Don't die._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this took longer than usual. Life can be unpleasant at times. 
> 
> I had the Institute kill off the Railroad because I think some irrational part of my brain is in love with Deacon -- yes, that's right, the fictional character. I couldn't have Nora murder him on my watch. *sigh* I gotta get out more.


	31. Forever And a Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The destruction of the Institute, and the rebirth of the Brotherhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They needed a happy ending after all the angst. Pure fluff.
> 
> I'm really not good with romance. And I'm married. Go figure.

Nora had fought her way through the Institute, killing humans and synths alike. She wished she could spare the humans and release them at the very least, but they had all the intellectual tools to recreate the abominations they had already unleashed in the world.

 _This is the last thing_ , she reminded herself. 

She had to put a stop to the injustice Shaun was doling out. Creating synthetic humans, playing god, and then enslaving them to his own nefarious plans. The meek servitude the janitors showed while she gunned them down broke her heart, surely sentient beings must be somewhat human, but she couldn't allow the slavery of an entire species to continue. People like Curie, well-meaning and naive, and people like Danse, kindhearted and loyal. They all could have had the same opportunities, if she was a better person, or believed different principles and ideals, but the continuity of humanity and the destruction of its most destructive agency had to be her paramount concern. Anything else was folly, and deadly folly at that.

She slaughtered them all like cattle, their blood ran in rivers throughout the Institute corridors. Men, women, children; she didn't even know how many were human. She couldn't bring herself to check any of the bodies once she was safe. Confirming human casualties would only add to the blood on her hands and the guilt that kept her awake at night. 

When the halls fell silent and she had shot an angry Righteous Authority into the head of the last courser ( _that's for Danse you fucker_ , she had thought smugly), she made her way to visit her demonic excuse for a son.

What she found, instead of the scowling, defiant leader, or the sniveling coward, was an old man (older than looked last she saw him even), lying on his deathbed. She was wary of a trap, an Institute plot to bring down the future wife of Arthur Maxson in one final act of violence, but no one was left to spring it. He was nearly enveloped by the medical pod the Institute often used for their sickest patients, too weak to lift his arms or do much else other than frown at her.

"Hello, Mother. I expected you to betray me once I learned you also betrayed my father." He hissed in disdain. 

"Your father was out of his mind, Shaun. He was going to murder me." Her eyes were cold when they met his, and he looked away in disgust.

"And you've now come to murder me, is that it? Tell me Mother: have you come to also gloat in your victory? Is that why you are speaking with me now instead of ending my life?" He demanded fiercely. 

She shook her head at the lunacy both her husband, and now her sixty year old son, we're displaying. Surely he could see the dangers that such technology could pose -- how it ruined his life, destroyed his family. It occurred to her that he may be as unstable as Nate had been in his final moments, but she had to let him know, despite everything, he was still her son.

"Shaun, how can you not see the damage the Institute has caused? It's tearing families apart, communities, lives. Our lives! We were happy before the war, we could have been happy afterwards if the Institute hadn't ripped you from us!"

"No, the Institute formed me into a great man. I rose from an unloved infant to a respected scientist, and the father of a new race. A race the Brotherhood would have you destroy. They are machines; sentient beings that will rebuild the world after the destruction your generation put it through. My life's work will have been for nothing. And you-- you mean less than nothing."

"I'm sorry it had to come to this Shaun, I truly am. I love you."

"If that is true, you would never have committed these grievous acts against your flesh and blood. I would have had you lead in my place, but you spit in my face and took up the mantle of my enemy. I have nothing more to say to you, you disgust me. Shoot me, Mother, get it over with, there is noth--"

With his permission, she ended his life without guilt, though she would always mourn her baby boy. A scream of anguish echoed through the empty halls of the Institute, carrying all the rage only a mother of a deceased child can know.

A muffled cry came from a cabinet nearby, where a small boy peaked his head out fearfully.

"Mom! Father told me to hide until it was safe, until it was just you. I'm scared, can we go home?" The synth boy Shaun asked. Nora shook her head, tears streaming in rivers down her cheeks. It seems her son found one more way to dig his heels in, programming the synth to behave as her human child should have. 

Nora escorted the boy to the surface, but abandoned him at Abernathy farm in the care of Connie and Blake, looking back at him only once before vanishing in front of his very eyes.

*           *           *

It was late morning when Nora teleported back to the Prydwyn, hair matted to her scalp with blood, her armour dented and broken, her face bruised and bloody from unseen cuts. Arthur rushed down the stairs to meet her and swept her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as the bombs within the Institute detonated in the distance. He looked at the destruction for barely a moment, before turning back to her and pressing his lips to hers.

They made love in the steam of the shower, as the hot water masked both their tears. She was safe, the Commonwealth was safe, and the enemy destroyed. All that was left was to tie the knot, and Arthur was more than ready.

There was no formal ceremony -- Arthur had arranged for a civil ceremony and had a silver sequin dress made for Nora since she had neglected to give him any details. They said their vows on the forecastle of the Prydwyn, only the Proctors in attendance as witnesses. Maxson didn't remember ever feeling so nervous, and had never seen Nora blush under his gaze, but he was unwavering, and she was beautiful as she shimmered in the afternoon sun. The evening brought socializing from the entire crew as they drank, danced, and gave their respects and well-wishes. 

As the two laid down for the night, their third round of lovemaking that day having exhausted them, Maxson looked Nora's face, feeling a flood of emotion wash over him. She hadn't yet felt the depth of her loss, and he would be there when she broke regardless, but a part of him felt guilty he had not offered her a moment of solace. Her face betrayed no sadness, however, and she kissed his fingertips tenderly as she watched the emotion flicker across his face.

"I will tell you everything tomorrow, I promise. Tonight is just for us, we deserve to be happy after everything we've been through," she reminded him. He nodded slowly, turning her hand over in his own. His lips grazed over her lips, soft as a whisper, and he sighed contentedly. 

"Tell me when you're ready, we have time. I'm not leaving your side, not ever again. I'm yours, for forever and a day," he swore. Her smile lit up the dim room, and she kissed him once more, stealing his breath away with her sincerity. 

"I love you, Arthur Maxson. For forever and a day, and every day after that."


	32. Epilogue: One Last Toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue, thirty years later.

Maxson watched solemnly as scribes lowered his beloved wife into the ground. Three days ago marked the thirtieth anniversary of the day he swore his vows, to love her and honor her above anyone else, to protect her, to be dutiful to her and honor the ways of Steel, to forge his marriage from the strength of it, and to hold her above himself until death. Thirty years, and now she was forever being lost to the horrors of the wasteland, buried in the earth still damp from the last radstorm.

In thirty years, he had seen the birth of his first born, and shortly after, his death. Arthur consoled her in her maternal grief, as he had after Shaun's death. He watched her birth four more children, three sons and a daughter. He had seen two eldest sons fall in battle to newly formed, corrupt governments, and had buried them right next to where he now stood. She had named them after her brother and father, Eric and Aaron. His youngest son, Deacon, and his beautiful daughter, Amelia, had opted for less dangerous positions in the Brotherhood. They served proudly as Proctors, and Arthur wouldn't have it any other way.

But he had seen Nora's grief throughout these three decades: death of children, friends, dogma. The Brotherhood had changed so much in this time, and he had likewise changed. No longer did he hate synths on principle; the destruction of the Institute made light work of any threats they may have caused outside of outright rebellion. Now, the synths roamed as freely as humans. Though the feral ghouls population was always a problem, the Brotherhood had found a way to reverse the necrosis of flesh and neural processors, so ghouls who were willing to forgo immortality were spared and cured. The FEV virus was likewise cured, though it took significantly longer. Dr. Virgil was a help to their cause until his death ten years ago. Young Dr. Amelia Maxson had since taken up the calling to save mankind from one of their biggest blunders.

Now that the wasteland was becoming more hospitable, the Brotherhood had spent their days policing against Raiders and large, mutated beasts. There was yet a cure that would allow for a petting zoo. With so little to focus on now, Arthur was at a loss. He would go home to the Prydwyn, alone with his thoughts. Perhaps his children would stop by for a drink in remembrance of their mother; perhaps they would drink alone. In either case, sleeping would not come easily without a mission to keep his thoughts from Nora's final days. 

Her skin had sunk deep into her eye sockets. Her once beautiful flaxen hair was white, making her appear twenty years older than she was. At fifty-one, she had been strikingly beautiful until her illness had taken hold. It was one thing Arthur could not protect her from. He brought in numerous doctors, forced her to take cocktails of treatments, but all failed. All anyone knew was that her body, being so unaccustomed to radiation before the war, had been slowly failing because of it now. There was nothing anone could do for her; she had the most aggressive form of cancer discovered since before the great war. Maxson was determined to save her, but when she could take no more, she pleaded with him to stop treatments and let her die in peace.

It wasn't in him to fail, Maxson told himself daily up until she died. He searched in silence for a cure, radical or orthodox, that might give her a fighting chance. When her final hours came, she called for him, and only him. He held her, but despite her pain and grief at her suffering, she comforted him. She let him cry, assured him of her love for him, for their children, for the life they had built. And then, just as quickly as she had appeared in his life, she was gone.

He didn't weep at her funeral, although many people expected him to. Theirs had been a love that was rarely known: based on mutual trust, devotion, and friendship. Several others had openly cried at her service, including his remaining children and grandchildren, but Maxson had stared straight ahead, watching as his loyal knights cast earth on her casket. He had no words to say when he was prompted to speak, his children offering eulogies in his place. His words were already spoken, and for her ears alone. He did not feel the need to explain what sort of woman his wife was, the people gathered knew her by her bravery, her strength, her compassion.

When people started to file past, paying their respects for their beloved Mother of Steel, Maxson shook hands with her friends. Those who had outlived her offered condolences and warmth: Piper, MacCready, a now human Strong and Hancock, and Codsworth -- her trusty robot. The others had been victims of the Commonwealth; their deaths were old stories, now told in remembrance. Her friends were the last to leave other than his children, and each had offered their support and comforting memories of his beloved wife.

He sat, next to her now-filled grave, feeling the soft, newly grown grass beside the mound of earth. In his heart was now a void he couldn't ever hope to fill. She was everything to him: his light in the darkness, his conscience, his dreams for tomorrow. Now she was gone, and he had never felt so alone, so angry that the world would take her instead of him.

A pair of boots stopped beside the grave, and a hulking figure knelt down and placed a large bouquet of hubflowers on the pile of dirt. 

Maxson squinted against the afternoon light to the figure above him, noting the familiar shape, the posture, the stance. A calloused hand reached down to help him to his feet, and Arthur took it with equal measures of caution and curiosity. He looked into the face level with his, his jaw slackened and his heart nearly stopping.

"I'm sorry Arthur," Danse said quietly, his eyes not cowering from his Maxson's. "I know we made a deal, but I couldn't not come."

Maxson studied his face. The years had not touched him at all; he was exactly the same as he had been all those years before. It was as if Danse had stepped out time, a testament to the years so long ago when Arthur's love was fresh and his decisions foolish. Maxson brought a wrinkling hand up to touch his shoulder, wanting to check if Danse was really there and not a hallucination. When he felt Danse under his fingers, firm and tangible, he let out a stifled sob and embraced the man as he once had in the days he called him _brother_. 

"I've missed you, old friend." He told him sincerely. Danse smiled and shook his hand, and pulled out a bottle of bourbon.

"I owe you a bottle," he shrugged, and uncorked the spirits, taking a sip and passing the drink to a stunned Maxson.

They drank in silence for a while, before Maxson turned to him, not daring to ask for forgiveness, but Danse granting it silently.

"In thirty years, you never wrote, never visited, never interfered. Why-- did you settle down?" Maxson asked, hoping Danse had found the happiness Nora had wanted for him. Danse shook his head, sadness overtaking his dark features.

"You know why." Danse said, fighting back tears as he ran his hand over the stone carving that was her name. Maxson nodded once, accepting the bottle again and putting it to his lips. They both loved her, and while Maxson had thirty years to express it, Danse's only way to do the same was to remain absent from her life.

"Welcome home, Richard. Ad victorium." Maxson said, smiling warmly despite his own hot tears.

"Ad victorium, Arthur. To Nora," he said, returning the sad smile and lifting the bottle for one last toast -- to the only woman either of them had ever loved, the greatest woman the Commonwealth had ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried while writing this. I hope I have the same effect on you guys, or I'm just a pansy. I wrote this chapter before I wrote the final quest chapter. I hope you enjoyed this story and my total non canonical ideas. I have a few more non-orthodox stories planned.


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